


Mother and Child

by V_mum



Series: Aboveworld Tales [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Big Brother Papyrus, Big Brother Sans, Bullying, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Gen, Mom Toriel, Non-Binary Frisk, Selective Mute Frisk, and a very vERY VERY, anxious Frisk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:05:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toriel was, in the depths of her heart, the kindest thing to ever exist.<br/>In Frisk’s eyes, everything Toriel did, every day, prove that fact over and over again.<br/>Toriel was Frisk’s happiness.<br/>Frisk hadn’t called her mom since a week after the barrier had been torn down.<br/>Not even once.</p><p>Something's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You are my Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Allllrriight first Undertale Story.  
> Lets get this thing moving, pals.

If there ever was one person that Frisk could trust, it was Toriel.

Everyone trusted Toriel.

Toriel was the kindest person to have ever lived; her only rival could be Papyrus, but even still papyrus had a hubris to him, and perhaps even the smallest bit of selfishness in his manners of trying to achieve his dreams back in the underground, willing to capture another living thing to reach the Royal Guard.

At any rate, Toriel was different. She was very different. 

Toriel was the kind of kind woman who had taken Frisk in the moment she had found them. Even the great Papyrus himself had taken a few puzzles to warm up to the human. 

Toriel was the kind of women who had, from the very beginning, only acted with the personal desire to see Frisk, a total stranger, safe. She had saved Frisk from flowey, taken them in to her own home, taught them about puzzles, and had meant to keep them safe in the ruins from the wrath of monsters who would have taken Frisk’s soul to reach the surface.

Toriel was, in the depths of her heart, the kindest thing to ever exist.

In Frisk’s eyes, everything Toriel did, every day, prove that fact over and over again.

The early mornings when Frisk woke to their surrogate’s cinnamon-butterscotch pie, warm and fresh, waiting on their night stand.

The bedtimes when she would read Frisk stories and tall tales until they fell asleep.

The Friday lunch times when Papyrus and Sans would come over, and Toriel would bring their packed picnic out to the yard; She and Sans would trade endless lines and jokes and puns, Papyrus would end up screaming, only to prompt Sans to make more jokes and for Toriel, her kind soul, to apologies in the form of another pun and hand him a slice of pie.

The Saturday nights when Undyne and Alphys would come over for a sleep over, and spark a 4-person anime night where Toriel would squeak and cover Frisk’s eyes at romantic anime scenes or cover their ears at each of Undyne’s accidental curse slips; sometimes at dinner Undyne would demand to give Frisk a cooking lesson and Toriel would hover nervously and throw in her input and worry of Frisk being near the sharp knives or high fires at the stove.

Toriel was so kind that, even Sundays, she took Frisk to Asgore for the night. Even though Asgore was probably the only person Toriel would rather not spend her time with below or underground, She never once tried to monopolize those Sundays, even encouraged Frisk to go spend time with their second surrogate, almost never even looking the slightest unpleased to be around Asgore when Frisk was around. 

And the every morning, Monday through Friday, Toriel would be the one to wake Frisk, be it at Asgore’s on Monday or in Frisk’s own room any other day. She would help her adoptive child get ready for school, she would double check their bags, sometimes triple check, and she would make sure to pack Frisk’s lunch as nutritious and tasty as she could. Then Toriel would walk Frisk next door to the Skeleton brothers house and kiss them goodbye and wish them luck, every day, before Sans (whom had a part time job as a janitor at Frisk’s human School) walked with Frisk to school.

Frisk came home ever afternoon with Sans, and when the shorter skeleton dropped them off at their home, it would be warm and filled with the scent of dinner being made, Toriel having returned from teaching at her own School for monsters only a little before.

Toriel was the brightest light in Frisk’s life. 

Toriel was the best person frisk had ever met or seen.

She was warm, she was kind, she was soft to the touch and she had a smile so friendly it could clear up a rainy day and a hug so all encompassing that you thought- and hoped- shed never let go. 

Toriel was Frisk’s happiness.

Frisk hadn’t called her mom since a week after the barrier had been torn down.

Not even once.

Frisk knew that Toriel had noticed after the first few days, at the very least. 

Frisk also knew that Toriel was too kind to ask, to even imply, even with the worry and disappointment and sadness.

Frisk, whom had almost braggingly used ‘mother’ at every reference to Toriel, in ever few-spoken sentences that had even the slightest to do with her during that first week Frisk lived with Toriel, so proudly calling the warm and kind woman ‘mom’.

But hadn’t said it in months. Not to Toriel, Not to Asgore their adoptive ‘father’ (whose title, also once bragged about, had also disappeared), and not when talking to anyone else. 

And it seemed everyone started to notice, after a while, though not as fast as Toriel or Asgore, whom also appeared concerned. 

It took Sans about two weeks after Frisk abruptly stopped Saying mother or mom, or to at least start showing a vague uncertain expression when in both of their presence during the picnics or when dropping frisk off. Frisk had gotten the softest feeling that Toriel had actually been the once to bring it to San’s attention, having relied on her old joke-telling partner and seeking possible answers from him, answers that Sans didn’t have.

Papyrus noticed next, maybe a week after his brother started showing some concern. It’d been idle talk when Frisk had been over at the skeleton brothers’ one morning before school. Papyrus had dabbled in cooking and made a ‘spaghetti pie’. “DO YOU THINK YOUR MOTHER WOULD LIKE IT, FRISK?” a simple question, simple enough. But when frisk had hesitated and didn’t say anything at first (not unsurprising considering frisk wasn’t much of a talker and never had been), to respond with “I’m sure she would.” Papayrus had looked at frisk and narrowed his eyes suddenly.   
Oddly enough, he stayed quiet as Sans came down stairs, told a bad pun, and started Frisk out the door for school. Papyrus’ silence and zero reaction to the pun had caught San’s attention and a short, seriously look crossed them both, but then Papyrus called a jovial good bye and headed over to take his latest culinary masterpiece to Toriel for inspection, and most certainly, ask a few questions of his own in concern for his favorite human.

Both Undyne and Alphys noticed on the same night. Undyne in a situation much similar to Papyrus, having said something about ‘you mother’ only to not receive a bragging ‘mom’ or ‘mother’ in the response, and Frisk earned a genuine surprised and suspicious look from Undyne, and a rather concerned look from Alphys who looked up almost too sharply. Toriel, whom had been sitting next to frisk on the couch, had avoided both of the other women’s glances toward her, and Frisk caught a flash of sadness in their surrogate mother’s eyes before quickly excusing themselves to hurry up to the bathroom.

After Undyne and Alphys notices, it spread like wild fire.

All of the monsters frisk knew from Burger pants to Lesser Dog seemed to get uncomfortable when Frisk and Toriel went somewhere together. Monster Kid seemed hesitant to talk to frisk about Toriel all together and when Frisk and Sans went to New grillby’s, built quickly after the move above ground by popular demand, their grease lunch was more often ‘to go’ to avoid the awkward silence of eyes on Frisk after the whole building’s initial greeting. It seemed even Metaton had found out about Monster Kind’s favorite human having mother issues, as there were a suspicious number of New Stories on his station about Children not being grateful to their mothers or about Monster mom’s concerns for their kids. Metaton even started yet another TV show, a reality TV show featuring mothers and their adopted children talking about their new family and doing trust exercises. Frisk and Toriel had been sent an invitation to appear for a season finale. They hadn’t replies yet.

By that point, things had blown out of proportion. It had all really gotten out of hand, and Frisk hadn’t been so frustrated since Asriel having to stay in the underground.   
Sans finally made a move after the TV show Metaton Started. He, too, knew things had gone too far at this point.

The walk home from school had been quiet for a while, and finally he look the Elephant in the room directly in the eyes and asked “So, kid. You want to talk about your Mother yet?”   
A very long pause, and on a terribly quiet and utterly unconvincing tone, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Kiddo, I have to ask. This discussion is mandible-tory.” His smile was a little forceful.

Now that had been a really bad one.

“What’s got under you and Tori’s skin? Why are you acting like this?”

Why?

What a good question.

There were too many answers.

So that’s what Frisk told him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Sans.” 

If there was anything that might make Sans actually try to pry harder into a situation, it would have be such a vauge response like that.

And maybe there was a part of you that said what you did in response on purpose, because you… wanted help.

There were a lot of reasons. There were too many. They all hurt. They all hurt so much.

They hurt all the more every time Toriel looked hurt.

Sans and Frisk reached home after neither of them said anything else the rest of the walk. 

Frisk couldn’t even bring themselves to stay down stairs in the warm glow of the kitchen lights and the smell of cooking dinner. Toriel let out a distressed noise when Frisk didn’t stop, instead picked up speed into a run upstairs for their room. Frisk felt San’s eyes the whole time, until their door was closed tight behind them. 

Frisk curled up in their bed under their blankets and didn’t eat dinner that night. 

There was pie on their nightstand the next morning and Frisk’s heart hurt that she must have kept Toriel, who was tired from teaching, awake out of worry long enough that the goat-monster mom had had time to even make it.

None of Frisk’s reasons hurt more than the consequences they had on Toriel. 

Sans walked Frisk to school again that Friday morning. Frisk looked terrible after watching Toriel look exhausted and concerned and worried, hovering but looking almost afraid to ask any questions about what went on last night. Sans didn’t bring it up.


	2. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury, Mercy, Love, Determination, Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright im excited
> 
> here's chapter 2
> 
> on a side note i L O V E gender neutral frisk but i have a seriously hard time forgetting not to write she or he for them, so let me know if i missed a spot?

This kind of thing happened a lot.

So often, it made Frisk a little sick.

You wouldn’t think… that this was something that happened in Frisk’s pacifistic timeline.

Fighting.

No, not passive, no-hit-back fighting and offering mercy every chance, as had been Frisk’s fighting method under the surface.

That’s what Frisk’s timeline _was_ ; that’s how they got out of the underground, mercy and not harming others.

Talking, Comforting, Mercy. Every fight was Mercy.

No fight in the underground was on both sides a true fight, not with Undyne, not with Asgore, not with Megaton, not with any smaller monsters Frisk had crossed.

But ever since school had begun, there was fighting.

 _Real_ fighting.

Fighting that felt a little more material than what was even possible in the underground, because there was actually _blood_.

Human blood.

And it wasn’t just Frisk’s.

Blood made it feel so much more _real_.

You know, most of these fights flew almost completely under the radar.

They weren’t long or drawn out or risked death- or even any real serious injury, after all, they were fights between 12 year olds. They happened outside of the class and away from prying eyes, mostly during recess, away from teachers’ eyes, sometimes just in the mornings between class- only when Frisk knew Sans should already have left for the day between custodian hours to his class at the community college across the street.

Frisk may have dared him try and find out, but… they never wanted to let him see that they were actually fighting. Frisk never wanted to make him see that again. He’d had enough of blood and dust for many life times. Frisk never wanted it to be something he had to see above ground, where they, all the monsters, were supposed to finally be safe and happy.

Frisk also wasn’t entirely sure why the other kids never gave away their fights. It was always the same 5 kids, all were peers in their class. All went home with the same wounds or messiness that Frisk did, and apparently, none of them wanted to own up to their fights to parents or guardians or whoever, either.

Those wounds, again, weren’t much. 12 year olds can only dish out so much damage.

A torn shirt, scraped knuckles, a busted lip, just a few things here or there.

They could all be easily passed off, as Frisk was an adventurous child who wasn’t known for sitting still and definitely notorious for being clumsy ever since ‘falling’ into the underground.

Toriel got really worried the first time Frisk came home with something that they couldn’t hide under their clothes. Toriel wasn’t the only one, of course; Sans had just happened to have Papyrus with him that day for the walk home and the Skeleton brothers had look some mixed combination of shocked, angry and worried. They’d almost started to grill Frisk pretty good over what- _who,_ they had actually guessed, assuming quite fast that it was a fight- had hurt them, but Frisk had managed to pass it off as slipping on monkey bars with a smile.

Frisk was silently concerned why they jumped to the fight conclusion, which was correct. But, luckily, frisk wasn’t known for being a liar, either. Papyrus bought it immediately, even if Sans looked skeptical as he examined the black eye with cautious bony fingers.

Papyrus had quickly demanded to teach Frisk better skills at the playground that weekend to make sure Frisk could defeat monkey bars; much t frisk’s grinning, and a nod of acceptance to his ‘training’ session. Papyrus whooped and talked about it, and all else they would do to train the whole way home.

Toriel had panicked a lot more, but didn’t uptake any further suspicions when Papyrus had heartily announced Frisk’s lie and Sans made a joke about it. Toriel had quite over-done her ice-pressing for the thick bruise around Frisk’s left eye, and really doted on her make-shift child the whole night.

Frisk loved that woman so much.

Even if the day before’s much larger bruise on their back and the day after’s real nasty bruise on their hip went unknown, alongside many others, and ached painfully when Toriel gave frisk one of her seemingly never-to-end hugs. The pain didn’t make Frisk want to let go any sooner, though.

Over those two weeks- and even further, for that whole month- those small things went by with nearly no trouble. Frisk left school with Sans, and would tell him some random story about where the newest injury came from when he asked, telling it with all the exuberance a child might have. He’d find a way to make a pun or joke about it by the time they got home, and would tell it to Toriel who would smile and giggle, then launch into mother-nurse mode.

Band-aids, wrapping, ice packs.

Frisk’s favorite healing process were the kisses, cuddling hugs, and Toriel’s favorite method of medicine, Laughter. Which meant jokes as bad and puns as terrible as Sans’. Said skeleton often stuck around when Frisk was bruised, feigning trying to ‘help’ with the bandages and mostly cracking jokes with Toriel until Frisk was in more pain from laughing then the actual injuries.

Frisk could only smile at those memories of after care.

But only feel disgusted in themselves as, for what had to be the millionth time in only a month, they lost their cool and in a fit of out-of-character anger for the pacifist child, felt skin split under their knuckles in a furious attack and head butted a child their size so hard that both of their skulls rang painfully in response, hot angry pants falling from a newly split lip as Frisk glared at the other kids.

You’d think one-on-five would be a disadvantage, but having fought monsters so much stronger and magical than other children- sometimes, at three at a time back in the underworld- this wasn’t as hard as you’d expect.

The head-butted boy let out a squeal as he held his nose- so less dignified than Frisk’s non-human opponents of before, but then again, Frisk had never lost their temper in _those_ fights. “You-You stupid Monster-lover! You-You-You’re a disgrace!”

Fleeting words from a fleeing opponent, the other ones not far behind. It didn’t hurt to hear them. The others called some insults of their own, nursing small injuries, straggling to run away with their other friend to make sure what they said would be heard.

“It’s your fault my dad lost his restaurant to a stupid _grillby’s_ monster hangout!”

“You half-breed!”

“My mom said you’re stupid skeleton friends were the worst in your stupid family, being loud and scary! But you’re the real worst!”

“Go find your own school! Go to that stupid goat school for rejected monsters! We don’t want you here!”

“Yeah, you freak! You cant even use the bathrooms here ‘cause you aren’t even a boy or a girl!”

“Not a boy or a girl! And not a human or a monster! Just a freak like your creepy monster family!”

“Yeah! Go back to your stupid goat mom, the queen of monster goats, ugly and hairy!”

“Queen of the goats! Full of ticks! She’s not your mom anyway!”

“She’s just a stupid monster!”

“Like all of them!”

“half-breed!”

“half-breed with a goat mom!”

“Only that old goat will be your parent, and she’s not even a person!”

Blood boiled.

Maybe it was dealing with this every single day since their third day of school.  
Maybe it was the stress of keeping everything bottled up and covered up.  
Maybe it was all the pain from injuries and pain from seeing everyone so worried.  
Maybe it was all the feelings about lying and keeping secrets from those they loved.  
Maybe it was the fear in their gut after daring Sans into prying two days ago, that someone was going to find out, that they’d be caught.  
Maybe it was self disgust in either the fact that they had sunk so low to lose their pacifist nature or mercy, or the fact that they were the same species as these sore losing _jerks_.  
Maybe Frisk was just sick and tired of them _insulting their family._

They always target Frisk’s mother specifically, and that was what was always what started these fights. It was above ground that Frisk realized they weren’t very good at not being violent when hostilities turned on those they loved.

Frisk didn’t know why Toriel was such an easy target to them. Sometimes the things they said didn’t even make sense. Then again, they were only 12 year olds. Their tangents went wild and they jumped back and forth, insults spitting out at Frisk themselves, at individual members of Frisk’s family, at the family as a whole, at all of monster kind, and then back again to frisk.

Now it was hard to actually explain it, but Frisk would, _probably_ , get in these fights if it were just about random monsters. Sans and Undyne would feel anything at a bunch of garbled insults. No one really picked much on Alphys, most likely because no one knew much about the shut-in scientist. And Papyrus, though he’d be hurt, would only turn around, laugh, and proceed to prove them wrong.

But when they made fun of _Toriel_. Frisk was _furious_. Toriel was- was- so- so kind, so gentle so love! She’d never done a bad thing in her life! They mocked Frisk’s mother and called her names and picked on her _solely_ because they knew it was the only way to get frisk angry!

It made Frisk so mad!

So mad, that these insults could make frisk fly off the handle, lose their cool, forget for a few minutes their morals, and _fight_.

Frisk wouldn’t fight back in the underground, but that was because the monsters had the _decency_ to keep loved ones out of it, not go taunting someone’s only family. _Family_. _Their family! MY FAMILY!_

Who were they to decide if Toriel was a person? She was a monster but she was a PERSON! She had more HUMANITY then THEY did, that’s for sure! Toriel was the best person! Stop making fun of her! _stop it! stop saying things about Toriel! Stop saying things about my mom!_

Frisk was so- so livid, they did something they’d never done in their life.

They did not offer MERCY.

They chose FIGHT.

With a scream of outrage that tripped up their peers, their _opponents_ , whom were used to their mostly mute classmate, Frisk charged the child who had dared, _DARED_ insult the woman who gave them life for this world, who nursed their wounds, who brightened their day, who woke them in the morning, who loved them.

The others ran screaming as Frisk dragged the boy that dare say Toriel wasn’t a person down into the dirt, still shouting a battle cry as Frisk sat on their chest, fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist after fist—

“SHE’S MY MOTHER, I LOVE HER, DON’T TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER, I LOVE HER, I LOVE HER SO MUCH, DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER-”

Another kid tackled Frisk off into the dirt and two more pounced, holding them down at the arms, and a foot met the stomach of a stripped crème-orange fall sweater.

“She’s not your mom, she’s a monster!”

Another rigid, sickening kick to the stomach that made Frisk’s innards clench.

“They all are! That stupid fire guy who took my dad’s store!”

 _Kick_ , so hard white spots flared in Frisk’s eyes.

“Kevin, stop-”

“That stupid gay-faggot couple you brought to open house with the nerd and the fish!”

Again, and Frisk thought they’d puke, the ground below them pulling out so fast that ‘up’ and ‘down’ were lost.

“K-Kevin, that’s en-”

Hands holding them down loosened a little but another sharp pain in Frisk's stomach was in sync with, “Those creepy bone monsters that follow you around, and your _farm animal_ , stupid parents!”

Those hands were just loose enough that, renewed rage, determination, and Frisk joined together and were strong enough to wretch their arms free and scream at the top of their lungs, flinging themselves up off the dirt and onto Kevin.

Frisk brought him down to the earth and off his high horse, pounding on his face with no end, the other children screaming with their shriek of fury and pushing or hitting Frisk in an effort to stop them.

Frisk didn’t stop until a teacher had them pinned on the ground, attracted from the parks and playground from the screaming.

There was no mercy that day. Only luck.

Else wise, Frisk wouldn’t have stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People who write Pacifist Frisk seem to forget that even though frisk is a child, they also have the skill and ability to kill L I T E R A L L Y every character in the game during Genocide run, from Asgore to Sans to A L S O kill God-Flowey STILL in the Neutral. 
> 
> Like oh my god Frisk could wipe the fricken FLOOR with any human even if they are a child
> 
> fun fact: i play Sans' boss battle music while i write and its painful
> 
> [Edit] thanks to all who helped me out pointing out any miss genders; they've been fixed and im glad for it!


	3. Flash Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things catch fire, and it seems neither brother knows how to help- or how to get Frisk to LET them help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmm Anxiety is a tricky mistress to write; just scratching the surface here, but these incoming chapters all full of it.

Frisk wasn’t allowed to even sit up from their nurse’s bed.

Not that they’d _want_ to.

Frisk’s stomach felt like it was tied in knots and cut open and ripped out of them. Everything ached and _everything_ was sore.

Even trying to sit up would, firstly if caught would then insight the school nurse to freak out and have a fit, and would secondly increase that pain 20 fold. Frisk had thrown up the first time they had tried to sit up; the pain was ridiculous. So much for ‘12 year olds can only dish out so much damage’.

Seems Kevin has a really tough kick. He might have a future in Soccer.

That is, if he still had a face after Frisk had finished with him.

Anyway- moving hurt. A lot. So Frisk sat quietly, room still vaguely swaying even in their stillness.

They knew that there would be a phone call home happening right now, just outside that door with the Office Workers; the Nurse was waiting on the ambulance to show up. The old woman who ran the nurses’ office was insisting that they be checked for serious internal damage at the hospital. Out there, a couple receptionists were probably on the phone with Toriel and Asgore right this minute, alerting them to the situation and explaining the hospital trip.

Toriel was going to be _terrified_.

This wasn’t how Frisk wanted to be found out.

Frisk’d all but challenged Sans directly to go and find out what was happening, so Frisk certainly _wanted_ to be found out, because if you challenge Sans, he _will_ find out.

But Toriel?

Frisk didn’t want Toriel to find out, not when they had told Sans a couple days ago, and not now.

Well…

Maybe, actually, they did.

They wanted Toriel’s help, assurance, kindness, promise. Frisk… wanted their mother’s help. To not be keeping a secret from her. To have Toriel on their side. To have Toriel’s support.

But…

Frisk didn’t want Toriel to get a phone call that they were hurt, and make her worry, that they had to go to the hospital, and make her panic.

Frisk didn’t want Toriel to get a phone call that Frisk had hurt others, and make her disappointed, that the other kid was worse off than them, and had been given the first ambulance already, which would let down their surrogate mother to no end.

Frisk didn’t want Toriel to be disappointed in them. Didn’t want her to be scared for them.

This isn’t what Frisk wanted.

There was so much going bad and it made everything hurt worse.

Frisk wanted to cry.

Frisk was 12, they were definitely young enough to be allowed to cry. Especially in a bad situation full of pain and fear. But they didn’t.

This was Frisk’s fault. Frisk got into a fight. Frisk didn’t let them runaway; give them mercy, like every other time. Frisk failed.

Frisk had caused a lot of trouble.

Beyond the pain, Frisk worried.

Frisk was so worried, that the pain wasn’t the worst thing making their guts churn.

They’d caused so, so much trouble.

So much more trouble than Frisk had ever caused for their family; for this family, or even their first family.

Frisk had cause so much trouble…

Frisk knew they’d be a disappointment. Toriel would be angry. Angry that Frisk had hurt so many kids, that they had lied, that they’d gotten in trouble, that they were being suspended for fighting, that they and another were going to the hospital.

Why couldn’t you just be good?

Why couldn’t you just be a good child for Toriel?

Why were you so bad?

Toriel would be so… angry.

Would this be Toriel’s final push?

Would this be it?

Was this it?

Was Frisk going to lose their family?

Was Frisk going to lose another family?

Was Frisk going to lose another mother?

Was Frisk too much of a hand full?

Was Frisk going to be left again?

_Was Frisk going to be Abandoned again?_

_No. No no no no no nononononon- no, not again, please no._

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

You’ve done so much; this is all your fault.

You’re bad.

Don’t cry.

You don’t deserve to cry.

“Kiddo--?”

Frisk’s door was shoved open fast and loud.

A sweating skeleton (what a paradox, a sweating skeleton?) stood there, holding it open, white pin prick eyes amongst big, round empty sockets landing quickly on their sick bed.

“Frisk- fuck-- _frisk-_ ” Frisk’s door was closed behind him, almost slammed, and Sans- still wearing the orange sticker he had to wear with his name on it for his Janitor’s job, was not smiling for one of the first time Frisk had seen in… not just ages, but in _many timelines_.

Frisk had doubts he had been working, though, in regards to the sticker. It’d been 20 minutes since the fight, if Sans had been on school grounds, he would have been here already; he was like that. He always knew things and had feelings and always showed up; the fact it had taken so long meant he hadn’t been anywhere near the school.

Sans was quick to approach the Nurse bed, and Frisk could see anger and worry blooming in his eye socket’s light. There was the vaguest cyan tint in the left most’s glow as his grin pulled back on, sharp and pained and tight.

“Buddy, what happened? Who- _how_ \- why-?”

Frisk looked up at the ceiling again. A frown etched their face in contrast to Sans’ anxious grin.

It was silent except for a few labored, raspy breaths on Frisk’s part.

“Come on kid, seriously. Now isn’t the time to be stoic quiet independent Frisk. Now’s the time to be Frisk who knows when they’ve gotten too deep and tells Sans what the _hell_ happened.”

Now he sounded angry at _them_.

Frisk frowned darker, eyes flickering fast to him but back up again. They couldn’t stand meeting his anger head on for longer than that breath millisecond.

Angry Sans always had some affect Frisk didn’t understand that left them turning paler and swallowing hard, refusing to meet the glow in his eyes. To be more accurate, Frisk couldn’t say ‘didn’t understand’; Frisk and Sans were the only two as far as they knew, whom understood about timelines. They’d never… sat down and talked about them.

Neither of them wanted to even think about them, not now, not when this was the best timeline either of them could remember. So they didn’t know exactly what the other knew, but they both understood that the other had… _memories_. They’d met up on nights when theyd both had night terrors, and sat in silent understanding, and they both had distant knowledge from previous pasts that the other knew. That was as far as Sans knew about Frisk’s memories, and as far as Frisk knew about Sans’.

So Frisk knew that their instinctual fear of the glow in Sans eye- even when it was just a vauge pop of color when he used magic for something completely benign like summoning a bone- came from those _histories_ of Sans and Frisk being on opposite sides. Frisk knew that much. Even still, in this timeline, and in many others, they were friends. Frisk didn’t understand why their body put so much fear in tie with the glow or the anger in this timeline, when they were safe. It was probably the same reason Sans always looked tense when Frisk picked up a knife, and especially so when Frisk was near Papyrus.

The fear was imbedded in them permanently after so many timelines.

It had all the more effect on Frisk at that moment, though, and Frisk’s breath painfully held, so much muted fear and pain and tension making their lungs still and painful sounding intakes stopped all together as Frisk’s face went entirely passive and expressionless even while fear and anxiety made their eyes turn watery.

There was another, painfully tense silence and Frisk didn’t breathe as they distracted themselves from his anger by counting seconds.

Frisk both heard and felt Sans sigh, and the vague bit of blue in the corner of Frisk’s eye dissipated. They looked over nervously, to see Sans pull out his phone write out a hurried text, letting air escape their battered lungs again when his anger swallowed back into irritation and frustration. Both of those thing were better than anger.

“You’ve got 5 minutes before Papyrus gets here. Tell me now what’s going on, kid, or you’ll have to _talus_ both, and I know you don’t want to make him feel bad.”

His joke slipped in and out in mostly habit, trying to ease tension and Frisk’s fear. But this was a cruel move on Sans’ part, calling in Papyrus.

He knew Frisk felt horrible if they ever dampened Papyrus’ strong mood. This was a threat that they better do this now and get through it, or Papyrus would force it out of Frisk with his endless coaching and prodding and assurances, and then Frisk would feel terrible when Papyrus felt bad after giving in and saying it out loud. Frisk couldn’t handle hurting Papyrus, even if they had in another timeline, and even if that was miniscule in comparison to just a few words.

Frisk’s head turned to Sans after his threat, and with determination to stay strong through Sans’ interrogation gone, their carefully contained frown dipped and bent until it broke, giving way to a miserable expression of pain, shame, fear, and horror.

San’s tense expression dropped faster just at the sight. “Kid. Talk to me.”

Not even a simple interrogation, that was an order. It wasn’t a prod, it was an urge, it was a flat, serious demand. There wasn’t room for argument, not that Frisk had any, for lies, not that Frisk wanted to, and his tone was so emotionless that it meant get _straight to the point_ , no joking around, _talk to me._ It was a tone so out of place for Sans.

“They…”

That was all Frisk managed at first, and Sans prompted them on by carefully placing a skeletal hand on theirs as his seriousness softened; but only then stared down at Frisk’s hand with stronger tension with white glowing eyes so small they almost couldn’t be seen amongst the endless black depths, tracing the cuts and bruises and grazes of their knuckles and fingers as he pulled his hand back almost sharply to himself.

Was it disgust?

Was it distrust?

Was it anger?

Was he remembering a different time when Frisk had beaten others to death?

Was he coming to the conclusion that Frisk had failed as the pacifist they were supposed to be- _wanted_ to be?

The tension in his look at their injuries and the touch of him being removed so fast broke the damn within the child and, before Frisk could even contemplate trying to hold them self together, everything was just… flooding out.

“They- Th-They- They called- They called Tori-Toriel- They called- they called her a- and- and- They said- They said- said- Sans, they- Sans, they- they said-”

Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t.

Don’t. Cry.

Oh god, so much crying.

It really freaked Sans out, and his grin turned from the shock of seeing their injuries to anxious, and an ‘oh shit’ look filled high and dry over the rest of his expression.

“O-Ok, kiddo, calm down. Frisk, Frisk, come on, calm down.” he hopped up and sat on the edge of Frisk’s bed, pushing hair away from wet cheeks or from clinging to the rough edges of gauze and the corners of sticky band-aids.

His cold bones went slow and hesitant over thick, nasty bruises, lost in momentary thought, before finishing the task with a sweep of those strands and trying to calm the child down again. “It’s okay, it’s all okay, just calm down. Just- Deep breaths, deep breaths, in and out. Calm down, and just tell me, Frisk, it’ll be fine.”

Frisk’s words, interrupted with everything from deep shaky breaths as he recommended to sobs, hiccups, stutters, cries, and whimpers, came in a fast flood that was hard to dissect, more words at one time then Sans had ever heard from the low-conversationally-skilled child and in a tone so broken that it stung him.

“Th-They said- They said, sans, they said- they said she- she can’t- ‘cause- ‘cause she’s- she’s a monster- she can’t- she can’t be- my- my mom- and- and- i- i- I don’t- I don’t want- her to- to- I just- i- i- love- love- T-tori-toriel, Sans, and- and- and I love- you- you and- and Pa-papy-yrus, and- and Asgore and Un-undyne and Al-al-alphy-phys and- and- but- b-but- they- they said-”

“Kid- come on- Kid,” he ran cool phalanges through their hair, careful not to catch any strands in the joints of his fingers, rubbing a thumb over Frisk’s cheek and avoiding touching the purpled marks in an effort to not cause them anymore pain. “You think Tori would care what a bunch of snots say about being your mom? You know her favorite thing is being your mom, none of that would stop her. You and I both know neither I or papyrus, care, either, and not the others. No one cares about what some brats say, we all love you.”

“I don’t care!” Frisk wailed, reaching and sitting up despite hot, burning pain in their gut to grab the sides of his jacket in bruised, bloodied, shaking hands and pressed the top of their head to his chest. “I don’t care if you care what they- they- what they say! I can’t stand it, I don’t want them to say those things, I- I- Alphys and Undyne- They- they call them- f-f-fa-fags, and-and- and- and they call- P-papyrus- they- they call him- him re-retarded- and- and they call- they call A-asgore a- they- they call him a p-pussy, and- and they- they call you- they- and they call me- and they call me- and they- they- they call Toriel- they- they call- i- i- it- I cant- it hurts- they- they call my family- they- Sans, they- they-”

Sans was lost.

Who knew middle schoolers could be so…?

So disgusting?

Man, were pre teens even human?

Come to think of it, there’s a particular pre teen names Chara who liked killing things.

Pre teens must not be human, after all.

“Frisk- Frisk, bucko, it’ll, it’ll be fine. It’s okay.” Sans would be lying if he didn’t say he wasn’t _furious_ , somewhere inside. They called his brother retarded? They called his king- and they- They called his friend fucking slur-y shit like that? He wanted to press and figure out just what the hell they called Toriel and Frisk, too, but this was not the time- if there ever would be one- to press on that point.

Pushing his anger aside, he really wasn’t sure what to say right now.

Monsters don’t really discriminate like this, it wasn’t something he’d dealt with before. In the world down stairs. Snowdin was especially quiet and peaceful, and the Underground did really care about things like sexualities and certainly didn’t mock the disabled, let alone use the titles as insults. He wouldn’t know what to say- he _didnt_ know what to say. He only knew he was pissed people were bullying and mocking him, his friends, and his family.

And as much as he _wanted_ to fix Frisk’s emotional state- well, he really wasn’t the best equipped for this. At all.

His extent in capabilities for comforting anyone, Frisk as well, included bad puns, threatening people to stay the fuck away, and snooping around until he figured out what the issue was.

Well, Sans certainly found a large puzzle piece to the problem- admittedly in what was probably the worst case scenario in how to find out. Jokes and puns and light heartedness were _not_ going to work right now, not in this situation or at least not when it was all so fresh. And while he was _sure as hell_ going to find some people to threaten until they had heart attacks- that wasn’t going to help Frisk; no the damage had already been done to his little buddy, and cluing them into the fact he had some death threats in mind could probably make them feel worse- which was the exact opposite of the goal here.

The anger rising in his chest to do the only thing left in his arsenal- tracking down the offenders and giving them a _really bad time_ \- was overwhelming and he was trying really really hard not to let Frisk see it less he scare the kid into next week. He really needed help. really, really needed someone to take the kid off his hands before he either blew up, or Frisk noticed his impending fury.

As if called upon, as if sensing his shorter brother’s disarray, as if someone had screamed his name out the door itself, the door to the room was thrown open and there appeared the tallest skeleton.

“HUMAN- FRISK- I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS- AM HERE FOR UNKNOWN REASONS BECAUSE SANS HAD A GUT FEELING AND DRAGED ME TO THE SCHOOL ONLY TO MAKE ME WAIT IN THE PARKING LOT! I DO NOT-” he cut himself off.

Sans looked over his shoulder, stuck in a cold sweat, one eye holding a steadily increasing tone of blue once again whilst producing a vague blue wisp of smoke, to see his Brother’s confused look.

When Frisk looked up around Sans to see Papyrus and whimpered in pain at their own movement, which gave the taller brother a clear shot view of the thick, nasty marks all over their face and the bandages all over, confusion dropped to shock and a mighty concern.

“MY DEAR FRIEND- WHAT- YOU ARE- SANS, YOUR NONEXISTENT GUT FEELING WAS - FRISK??”

It seemed Papyrus was, momentarily, as lost as Sans.

Then the taller skeleton was sauntering across the room, pulling the door closed quickly as he went, and sat in front of Sans on the opposite side of Frisk, situated on the edge of the bed.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Papyrus was as serious as his brother had been before Frisk’s breakdown, and his tone proved it as he carefully settled a hand on Frisk’s upper back.

Sans let out a shaky breath, and ran his fingers through Frisk’s hair one more time, pressing his forehead to the top of Frisk’s head for a small, silent second, steam escaping from closed eye socket.

He was _so_ angry. He really couldn’t sit here anymore. Sans needed to take a second and calm down before he scared the kid again, or made a hasty decision to hunt down some other kids who apparently had a death wish, mocking a Monster Ambassador and their family.

Those kids were lucky they had met Frisk, and not Chara. They were lucky they had met Frisk, and not _Sans._

If they had managed to piss of the Pacifist kid into fight, well, Sans probably would have killed them by now for the shit they have supposedly been talking. They’d be dead where they stood if they’d set it to Sans face. It certainly wasn’t hard to either find or kill a couple 12 year old humans…

That- _that_ right there is why Sans really needed a minute to find his chill.

“Papyrus.” Sans said sharply. “Guard the kid for me. I need a breather.”

Frisk’s hands tightened and they made a frightened noise; Sans could guess that the kid had been on the same worry about him going after those kids. I mean, he definitely could, there probably wasn’t anyone that could stop him, above or underground- No. no. calm down.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I just need to calm down. I won’t do anything rash, not when the _stapes_ are so high.” He soothed, running his thumb again over their check and pressing away a wet trail over skin that wasn’t bruised. “Meanwhile, you need to lay back down, it’s not going to be funny if you bust a gut, kid.”

Frisk’s weak laugh and watery smile simultaneously broke his heart and made him all the more outraged, but he was as careful as possible as he slowly laid them back down, Papyrus’s hands shifting from their back to help.

“Pap. Guard the kid.” Sans repeated.

“OF COURSE. THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD SOONER DIE THEN LET WHOEVER HURT MY FAVORITE HUMAN NEAR THEM AGAIN!”

Papyrus put a hand on Sans shoulder and squeezed once, both comfort and a warning to _really_ , really calm down. Sans noticed how strong the blue glow in his eye was getting and nodded, and when the room blinked, Sans had apparently vanished, leaving Papyrus’ hand in mid air.

It fell to the skeleton’s side and Papyrus sat slowly and uncertainly on the very edge of Frisk’s bed once again. He carefully took the human’s warm hand and frowned at the broken skin, and the various injuries.

“FRISK… PLEASE… JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED.”

He didn’t look up at them, his expression schooled neutral so much more than one could expect from someone so passionate as Papyrus, but even still, under it, pain and a silent beg.

It seemed even the great Papyrus knew Frisk and their habit of not telling him the bad things. The fact he was well aware that fact, that Frisk didn’t want to tell him, made their chest hurt almost as much as their abused stomach.

Frisk’s hand tightened over his fingers, other hand weakly coming to cover their face as they grimaced painfully, struggling in vain to try and retireve their expressionless, blank look.

Papyrus was happy and loud and kind.

He wasn’t retarded.

He wasn’t stupid.

He was smart.

Frisk _hated_ those kids and their words.

Frisk hated themselves, too, feeling like they had bought those words they said in how frisk, too, had believed Papyrus wouldn’t notice.

Wouldn’t notice that Frisk kept a lot of the important things from him. wouldn’t notice that Frisk didn’t like confiding dark things to him. That Papyrus, such a kind and good friend, wouldn’t be smart enough to notice something like that. Frisk hated themselves.

Papyrus’ hand squeezed back too, and Frisk’s uncovered half of their face opened an eye to meet his gaze, his eye now on them entirely. Squeezing back to offer them comfort, assurance. Waiting and looking at them, begging to just tell him.

Frisk started to shake, so, so angry… at their self, at the other kids, at how much it all hurt.

Anger gave way to sadness, and both Frisk’s hands clenched tight; one on Papyrus’ bone fingers, and the other tearing under their face’s bandages, opening the cuts below them to let fresh blood escape in steady, disturbed trails along the same path the tears had followed like the wet trails were highways.

Papyrus jumped, and with his free hand pried Frisk’s fingers awayfrom their face and held it tight, frowning and watching in worry as Frisk descended into broken cries, lost sobs, and painful shakes over their whole body.

Sans was wrong.

Nothing was okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quuiiicckkk insight into Pap and Sansy in my story and how ill write them in regards to frisk? if annyyy one wants to know why they are as a they are in my story?
> 
> There are floods of stories where Sans is Frisk's sole confident- which makes sense 'cause frisk isn't one to talk (hah its a joke cause frisk NEVER talks in the game) about their issues, and Sans' foresight and intuition works well to wriggle him in when there's a problem Frisk's hiding. But frankly Sans isnt as good at comforting people as he's cracked up to be in fanfiction, as much as it's my favorite thing to read. I mean, he's clearly got the ability to find things out no matter what (he finds out about timelines, for christs sake, doesnt he? how hard would it be to find THAT out?), but how much in the game has he been able to actually steer Frisk? he gives a lot of warnings and commentary and stuff, but nothing Sans ever tries really impacts the players choices, do they? 
> 
> Papyrus, in all honesty, would be better at the task because he's so much more social- but theres so much going on that Papyrus doesnt know nearly enough (or anything, in some cases) about to do the task adequately. He's got a lot more sway on how the player plays the game (he's the reason Frisk makes up with and befriends undyne, its reALLY hard to kill him when he keeps saying he believes in you, he ACTIVELY gets into Frisk/chara's way in the game early on to try and get the good in them to come out). Papyrus influences Frisk far more actively then Sans, but he has none of Sans' knowledge on whats actually going on with Frisk or Frisk/Chara.
> 
> They're opposites, and both missing key parts to be the full help frisk would need on their own.
> 
> Big struggle, yeah?
> 
> Anyway-- thats my ramble, good night children.


	4. Bad Children are Abandoned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They who sleep alone, in the depths of their own anxiety, never heal... 
> 
> Good children aren't abandoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* so im putting this chapter out early
> 
> mostly because it's so short.

The ambulance was there before Sans came back.

Papyrus wasn’t allowed to come with Frisk in it, because he was both too big, and not their legal guardian or even a ‘technical’ family member.

Frisk felt shame when they started to cry in hysterics, trying to grab Papyrus’ hand and take him with them.

They don’t want to be alone.

Frisk didn’t want to be alone.

They needed- they needed someone.

They-

They-

Papyrus promised, clutching their hand while the paramedics- looking incredibly guilty not letting him come in the ambulance- he’d come to see them, as soon as Sans came back, they’d go see them first thing.

“YOU WILL BE JUST FINE, MY SWEET HUMAN CHILD! THERE WILL BE DOCTORS TO TAKE CARE OF YOU; THEY WILL NOT LET YOU, THE GREAT FRISK, COME TO ANY HARM! IT’LL BE OKAY, I PROMISE YOU, YOU’LL BE SAFE AND FINE!”

That’s what he said. Frisk could tell how much he really, really didn’t want to leave them; Frisk’s meltdown was clearly only going downhill, if their hysterics were any indicator at all.

No less, he stood there on the curb and sweated buckets waving frantically as Frisk was taken away into the paramedic’s vehicle, and until it drove out of sight.

When Papyrus’ shape vanished around a turn, Frisk’s cries sank until they were masked emotionless again. They scared the paramedics into thinking that they had slipped into unconsciousness or shock.

From there on, Frisk felt alone, despite the next hour, possibly two, being surrounded by doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff and patients.

Frisk was alone for a full hour since leaving Papyrus, before they were taken into surgery.

Apparently, they had had serious internal bleeding and… something serious about damage to… the liver? Maybe?

That was about all Frisk understood, alone, listening to the jargon of the doctors as they moved and the nurses that quickly prepped them.

Cold professionals. Frisk didn’t know them. They looked at Frisk in concern, but only because Frisk was a child, and injured children evoked concern. But they didn't care about Frisk personally.

Frisk was alone.

So alone.

Hollow, and alone.

At any rate, Frisk needed surgery immediately.

So, Frisk went into the operation room. alone.

Scared. Terrified. Alone.

It… reminded Frisk of… a couple years ago.

Before the Underground. Before Ebott. Before their family- before- before their _second_ family… Before everything.

Always alone. Always terrified. Always in pain.

With the hit of amnesia, and as the world blackened, that’s all Frisk could… could think.

This is the same.

Alone. Afraid. Hurt.

It felt the same.

Did- did that mean-?

Was it happening, then?

Were they finally losing everything again?

Were they loosing another family?

No one was here.

No one was explaining why they had to go into surgery. No one held their hand. No one was there to hope they were alive. No one was there to promise to see them on the other side. No one was there to say it wouldn’t go wrong. No one said that they’d be okay.

No one was here.

When Frisk went home, would Toriel be there? Would Toriel be there, to welcome Frisk home, or would it be another empty house that they didn’t feel welcome in, because they had been bad?

Would Papyrus stop talking to them? Would Papyrus stop talking to Frisk, angry that they didn’t confide in him and that they were- they were so _clingy_ before? Clingy was bad.

Would Asgore be the one to yell and say to go away? Would Asgore yell and hate Frisk, because Frisk was bad, bad, bad, because bad children shouldn’t pester and bother and burden their fathers?

Would Sans be the one to leave them on the bench this time? Would Sans, always probing and trying while not trying, be the one to give on them entirely, to leave them there, because they were bad, _bad, bad, bad_ …

Bad children don’t get families. Bad children are punished. Bad children aren’t wanted. Bad children are sent away. Bad children are abandoned.

Good children don’t bother their parents. Good children behave. Good children do as their told. Good children don’t lie. Good children don’t fight. Good children leave their parents alone. Good children don’t get clingy. Good children don’t demand attention. Good children don’t get abandoned.

Too much to handle.

No one wanted this responsibility.

Frisk was a burden.

It hurt.

Being alone hurt.

Frisk wanted Sans and Papyrus.

Frisk wanted Undyne and Alphys.

Frisk wanted Asgore.

Frisk wanted Toriel.

Frisk wanted Toriel’s smiles. Toriel’s hugs. Toriel’s kisses. Toriel’s pies. Toriel’s voice. Toriel’s bad jokes. Toriel’s puns. Toriel’s bed time stories. Toriel’s loving words. Toriel’s safety. Toriel’s kindness. Toriel’s everything.

Frisk wanted Toriel.

Toriel didn’t want Frisk.

No one wanted Frisk.

Frisk was need.

Frisk was selfish.

Frisk was too much work.

Frisk was bad.

No one wanted Frisk.

A disappointment, a responsibility, a weakling, a brat, a burden, a problem.

Toriel. Mother. Mom.

_I'm sorry, please, please, forgive me._

_Please, please, please, please, please, please, please._

“Please, please, please wake up, Frisk. Please, wake up, please.”

Frisk’s eyes opened slowly against buzzing lights.

Where’s Toriel?

Can’t move.

Please, Toriel, please—

Two skeleton hands gently slid under Frisk’s head -too small to be Papyrus, certainly Sans- and lifted them up just enough that Frisk, unable to move, could see her.

Toriel, face buried in the hospital bed beside them, fists tight in the blankets.

“Please, Frisk, Please, I'm sorry I didn’t know- I didn’t protect you- please wake up, Frisk, please…”

Soft, quiet whispers, begs.

Frisk’s fingers twitched in her direction.

Can’t move much.

Frisk’s head was gently settled down, and while one cold, slow hand of bone continued to brush through Frisk’s hair, the other moved down, and gently took Frisk’s hand, settling it on top of the warm fur of Toriel’s.

Toriel jumped in response, sitting up, and her hands both quickly clasped the hand in her possession. Red eyes, wet fur around her eyes. Hope. Hope, fear, worry. Hope.

“Frisk, my child? Frisk?”

“-ma-mom?”

“ _Frisk_.”

And Toriel stood abruptly, her chair clattering back- oddly loud and less graceful than a normal Toriel.

But still Toriel.

The woman came into Frisk’s line of sight again, and as the soothing, slow strokes of Sans’ cool fingers stopped and moved away, Toriel’s hands took either side of Frisk’s head, warm and soft and so familiar that Frisk’s heart swelled, as did tears in their eyes.

“M-mom…”

Frisk’s shaky cry was met with Toriel pressing her forehead down to Frisk’s and letting out a broken laugh. “Oh, my child, my sweet, sweet child, Frisk. I love you so much, We- I- We were all so worried, Frisk, Frisk, I'm so sorry!”

Frisk’s face stretch with a frown, and with determination, and so much effort, one weak hand managed to rise and press to this side of Toriel’s soft furred cheek, and with a quiet sob, whispered, “You-You’re here… you're here… mom… you’re here… don’t leave me, mom… don’t leave me alone…”

“My child… I will never. I love you, Frisk, I love you, I'm here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i-i have to say im shocked at the response this is getting. Im used to dead fandoms or fandoms that arent nearly so positive. Undetale fans are incredibly friendly and supportive, im stunned. This sure as hell beats the aggressive Naruto Fandom and hard-balling Steven Universe fandom.
> 
> and to everyone crying in the comments TT-TT i am constantly crying over undertale i feel you all


	5. It's not REALLY okay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its all gunna be okay.
> 
> its okay.
> 
> its okay.
> 
> ITS NOT OKAY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I do have anxiety but thats an anxiety disorder, as compared to Frisk's Developed anxiety. Theirs runs more along the lines of PTSD than mine does, but im mostly applying mine here. Hope it doesnt look too... i dont know, out of place.

Frisk lay quietly, their hospital bed raised at the maximum elevation the Nurse would allow upon their waking; it wasn’t much, but at least it gave Frisk- who couldn’t move much- the ability to actually see more than just the buzzing florescent hospital lights.

Apparently, Frisk was allergic to the initial anesthetic that had put them under for the operation.

Surgery complications, no one knowing what went wrong at first. The effect had left Frisk with aggravated wounds, extra hours in surgery that really put stress on their body, and a lot of painful tension in their muscles. On top of it all, Frisk hadn’t woken up for three days from what should have been a very quick, none-too-bad surgery.

It was no wonder, then, how worried Toriel had been when Frisk had woken; their child slipping into a random coma from what had been told to her was a simple surgery would put any mother through the ringer.

As the nurse stop raising Frisk’s bed and started to leave to get Frisk’s doctor, they took in what they could from the new vantage point.

Toriel, suddenly passed out in the chair on their left; apparently she hadn’t slept in these last three days at all, and the relief that Frisk had woken up had finally done her in. It made Frisk feel guilt for having worried her so bad.

Asgore was quietly putting a blanket over his ex wife. He sat down again, eyes fixed on Frisk’s lap silently, in a chair to the side of the room. he wouldn’t look at Frisk directly any higher than their lap.

Sans was in the chair on the opposite side of the bed from Toriel. His jacket was zipped over his white T-shirt, quite rare, and he was fit entirely into the seat of his chair; legs up and arms settled between them and himself almost like he was either cold or trying to be small; his head was hanging back in exhaustion and he was watching the roof, a stressed, tired smile on his face, which was so weak, if Sans twitched it might shatter. He, too, was fixed on the ceiling and didn’t look in Frisk’s direction.

Papyrus was asleep on the floor, the rooms chairs all otherwise full; leaned against his brother’s chair, covered in another hospital blanket, dark circles (isn’t he a skeleton? For that matter- how did Sans have them, too?) under his eyes. Papyrus normally snored, but his slumber was so light that they were almost nothing in volume. He’d probably be waking up sometime soon.

Undyne and Alphys were both asleep in the last two chairs by the door, leaned on one another’s shoulders. Frisk felt warmed by the sight, they both looked cute, even though they looked as exhausted as everyone else in the room.

Frisk could have sworn they heard Metatton’s voice somewhere out in the hall, and then Monster Kid’s, and a few other familiar ones.

A lot of people would be worried that their Monstrous Ambassador had been put in the hospital, Frisk realized. Then, full of guilt, Frisk wondered what all those monsters would think when they found out that their highly-esteemed, kind, and merciful ambassador had lost their head and punched another kid into the hospital?

Frisk really, really couldn’t let themselves think about that right now. They needed to stop before their stomach twisted worse; it already hurt and made them feel nauseous as it was.

“Don’t get your stomach in knots again, kid.” San’s voice sounded incredibly soft. Quiet. Subdued. “Pap already had my neck for tying them up at the school, and making him wait so he couldn’t be here before the doc’s all untangled’em.”

He still wasn’t looking at them.

Was he mad?

Upset?

Had Frisk really gotten him in trouble with Papyrus?

Did that mean Papyrus was mad?

Were they both mad at Frisk?

“m’sorry.”

Sans eyes remained fixed upward at the ceiling. “Nothing you need to be sorry for about that. Don’t be sorry about anything. Not right now.”

Sans wasn’t looking at them.

Neither was Asgore, still.

Would the others, if they were awake?

Why wouldn’t they meet Frisk’s eyes?

It’s because they had failed.

It’s because they broke their own rules to not hurt anyone, worse yet, a kid, in a fit of stupid anger.

They were a kid, too, but they shouldn’t fight other _children,_ other 12 year olds had no chance against frisk.

They’d gotten angry and they’d hurt another person.

Frisk didn’t even know if that other person- Kevin- was okay. How much damage had Frisk done?

_What have I done?_

Disgust in themselves was not out the of ordinary, but it still _hurt_.

So much shame and disappointment, Frisk’s family couldn’t even look at them. That hurt even worse.

So much tension build up in Frisk’s body, steady but rapid, and Frisk found them self pulling on that straight face they had carried through most of the underground, through most of those insults, through most of those terrifying fights below and above the earth, through this entire hospital stay.

Frisk’s breath went too even and they looked too calm, and at the same time, the pressure around Frisk poisoning the atmosphere made Asgore look up stiffly and Sans look down with a short hiss of breath escaping him.

They hadn’t ever had reason associate this expression of Frisk’s as something bad. But this had to bad, to take it up now at all times.

“Frisk- please.” Asgore said quickly, standing up almost as soon as he looked upon his straight faced adopted child. Sans sat up in his chair just as quick, and Asgore was at the side of Frisk’s bed, settling one massive, furry hand on Frisk’s legs, so gently it was like he was worried Frisk would crack and shatter. “Little one, please, stop, everything is okay.”

Frisk said nothing and Asgore’s anxiousness climbed as their small, injured hands bundle tight into the sheets, their grip so strong there’s a threat to tear the cloth to shreds, and a massive tremor runs down Frisk’s sore body, so violent that Asgore breaks into a nervously loud noise of surprise.

It not only wakes Papyrus, but also stirs someone at the door, which cracks quickly and a concerned robot’s head peeks in.

Mettaton is quick to leave, and no doubt, will spread whatever he believes to have seen just now to the entire monster population crowding around the hospital waiting for an update.

“Tend to your subjects, Asgore.” Sans says quickly, having caught the brief intrusion. “Go catch the bucket of bolts, before something gets out of hand.”

Asgore is obviously not moving to leave, looking between first Sans and then back to Frisk, torn.

Papyrus has climbed to his feet and with a forceful salute, states, “THE GREAT PAPYRUS ASSURES HIS MAJESTY WE WILL NOT LET FRISK BE HARMED! HOWEVER EVEN THE GREAT PAPYRUS CANNOT QUITE HANDLE THE ENTIRE POPULATION. THAT IS THE JOB OF THE KING, NOT THE ROYAL GUARD.” Papyrus’s upbeat voice is solemn and tired, but his determination is as powerful as Frisk’s.

Looking torn in half entirely, Asgore turns back to his adoptive child and puts a hand to their straight face, “I’m coming back. I’m coming back. I’m coming back, Frisk, I promise.” He kissed Frisk’s forehead twice, one more time promising, “I’m coming back, my child.” And then he was gone to try and control impending monster chaos.

Papyrus moved around the bed, movements slow and careful compared to his normal energy, and a long bony fingers settled slow- giving Frisk all the time in the world to see it and pull away should they want to- onto their shoulder as he stood where Asgore had.

For Papyrus, achieving a normal volume was the equivalent of a whisper, and he achieved it: “The Great Papyrus will not stop talking to his favorite human child. Clingy or not.”

Frisk’s straight face cracked for a brief heartbeat, shaking increasing tenfold as the small human look up to the tall skeleton, silently searching for- for where he had heard that from. How he- How he had…

“You talk in your sleep… while under anesthetic, kid.” Sans answered the unspoken question himself, and Frisked turned as they felt him take their hand in his, fumbling with the fingers with a lost, tired look. Not looking at Frisk’s face, only at their bandaged hands.

“You think id…?” he trailed off, still focusing his eyes away from Frisk themselves, “You think I’d leave you on some bench over this?”

Yes(?)

No(?)

Frisk swallowed hot and hard. Sans wouldn’t do that- no, he was- he was _Sans_ , Frisk. _Sans._ They knew that, they knew Sans wouldn’t. No. He wouldn’t.

It’s a dumb thought. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

But then- what are you thinking, Frisk? You know it- you know you’ve pushed your luck with this family. You know you’ve pushed it too far.

You know you’re a liar and a disappointment and you’ve ruined it.

They had every right to leave.

Leave you on a bench.

Too much to handle.

Not ready for this responsibility.

No. Sans wouldn’t do that. Papyrus wouldn’t do that. Toriel and Asgore wouldn’t do that. Undyne and Alphys wouldn’t do that. None of them would do that.

How dare you infer they could do that, that they were so cold? They were the best, most tolerant, kindest…

But you- _oh ho_ , you- you pushed those buttons and broke them. This wasn’t on them, it was on you, because you failed.

You’re the problem. The burden. The responsibility. They had _every right_.

_Stop. Crying. Don’t. Cry._

Anxiety. Shame. Crying. More Anxiety, more Shame.

“Frisk- Kiddo- Stop, calm down-”

“Frisk, my friend, please- its- please-”

The small child panicked and found themselves stuck in rapid pouring waterfalls. Like thick water, like blood and molasses, Anxiety and Shame pooling and drowning and rising too fast. Soon Frisk couldn’t breathe. Soon they were struggling and flailing and pushing away against their skeleton friend’s hand, Shaking- _vibrating_ \- and fighting and thrashing.

No air in their lungs.

The space was too small.

Someone held them down.

Their stomach hurt- oh, god, it hurt.

Screaming and crying- their own- stifled them from being able to hear.

And- and then…

It was… okay.

It was warm.

They weren’t pinned down, but they were held.

So, so, _so_ warm.

A heart beat in their ear that wasn’t their own to hear around the screams.

So much warmth.

“Mom…”

Trembling hands held around fur, and a face buried into a chest, and it was warm, and it was soft, and it was okay.

Frisk cried quietly, and then- in warmth, fell asleep again.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Frisk. It’s okay. I’m here. And I’ll be there when you come home. It’s okay.”

It was okay.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* on a side note, to those who read my other new work, Sans doesnt like my story 'cause he's mad i fucked everyone up here
> 
> *your sick.
> 
> go away Sans.


	6. Formalities and Families

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk's doctor and Sans do not get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, pals, I love your comments a bunch. keepem coming I read them all.
> 
> in another note, seriously, Sans is really annoyed with Frisk's pesky doctor.

Frisk sat, curled into Toriel, for hours.

Their exhausted mother, despite being woken by the initial chaos of a panicking pair of skeleton brothers and Frisk in the middle of a now stopped breakdown, had fallen back to sleep again with Frisk’s head in her lap.

Frisk calmed down, panicky tears fading while their mother had held them, while the brothers and woken up Alphys and Undyne settled back into their chairs with heavy sighs at the averted crisis.

As much as Frisk wanted to join their mother in sleep, to get the hell out of this nerve wracking hospital and pain in exchange for a dream, sleep was now a long way off from their tense body, and their brain was running on overdrive.

“Wow, kid, you sure know how to give us all heart attacks.” Undyne breathed from across the room, and Frisk’s eyes opened dizzily. The room was distorted between pain, a new headache, remnants of the long sleep, and teary eyes, but Frisk could still make out the blue and red of Undyne beside the yellow of Alphys.

“…m’sorry.”

“Bud.” That was Sans’ sharp tone and Frisk nodded against their mother’s lap, feeling like they should apologize for apologizing despite him telling them not to apologize. It made Frisk feel confused, so they didn’t say anything in response, merely nodded in compliance.

The room descended into a gravely quiet as Frisk traced patters with a bandaged index finger into the purple cloth of Toriel’s robe.

After a few minutes, “U-Uh, Frisk- are- are you feeling okay?” Alphys prompted.

“S’okay.” Frisk mumbled, quietly.

“D-does anything- hurt? Th-they told us your painkillers might- might not be as strong, you were- allergic to the morphine, too…”

Frisk shook their head, one hand pressing gently to their stomach. “hurts’, but s’ fine.”

Quiet fell once more, and lasted a little bit longer, before Papyrus broke in. “MY FAVORITE HUMAN… DO YOU… DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR ‘LAST NAME’ IS?”

Frisk tensed.

Monsters didn’t have family names like humans. It was just Sans or Alphys, only first names. The only people with last names in the whole of the underground had been Asgore and Toriel Dreemurr; it was a traditional thing for the royalty based off of the old human last names.

They were looking for Frisk’s family name?

Why?

Why did they want that horrendous name?

That name was from before.

Frisk didn’t want that name.

Why did they want Frisk’s family name?

Why was he asking?

Were they thinking about Frisk’s family?

Was Frisk’s family looking for them?

Why did they want Frisk’s family name??

“Hey, Frisk, calm down.” Undyne straightened up across the room. “You’re going to kill yourself like that; Doc said you need to take it easy.”

“I-I thought- I thought we agreed not to ask them that until- until they were a little better?” Alphys sounded like she was scolding.

“BUT- THE HUMAN DOCTORS SAID IT WAS IMPORTANT- TO SEE IF THEY COULD FIND OUR HUMAN’S MEDICAL RECORD THING, THEY SAID AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!”

“Doctors always say as soon as possible! They always exaggerate! A guardsmen listens to their gut, not worrisome doctors, Papyrus! Think of Frisk!” Undyne scowled. “We agreed to wait to ask!”

“WELL I DISAGREE!” Papyrus wasn’t willing to back down so quickly. “IF THEY HAD HAD THE HUMAN’S- FRISK’S- FILES, THEY WOULD HAVE KNOWN NOT TO USE THE BAD GAS OR THE BAD PAINKILLERS! AS SOON AS POSSIBLE IS THE BEST CHOICE, WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE COULD BE BAD FOR FRISK?”

“Stop arguing.” Asgore’s voice sounded at the doorway as it opened, and he sounded stern. “Now is not the time to argue, especially in front of Frisk, and over something so important like children. And you are in a hospital. If you wish to argue, take it outside. Papyrus- we agreed to wait until Frisk wasn’t so over stressed; I understand your concern, dearly I do, friend. But now was not a good time, for the sake of Frisk.”

The doctor the nurse had originally gone to fetch earlier followed Asgore in just behind him. “I must agree with Mr. Dreemurr. If you all cannot stay calm and quiet I will have to end visiting hours and have you all leave.”

Frisk stiffened, cold fright running in their vains. Leave? But- no- Cant be be- not alone- No-

“I’d like to see you _try_.”

Well that was definitely a threat from the previously quiet Sans.

His finality and clarity allowed Frisk to relax. Sans wasn’t going to leave if he didn’t want to, and it sounded like he didn’t want to. Not going to be alone.

The doctor quickly found himself busied in his clip board to avoid what was certainly a glaring skeleton.

“Sans.” Asgore warned quietly.

“I'm not leaving the kid’s side.” Sans was adamant.

“Sans. You will treat Frisk’s doctor with respect. If you wish to not be made to leave, I expect you to control the other’s arguments better to avoid the risk.”

“Sir.” A subdued agreement. There was a bright flash of blue, and Undyne and Papyrus looked down at the ground as Sans gave them both a warning scowl.

Frisk’s hand shook and quietly reached in Sans direction. His determination to not leave… it gave Frisk determination, too. Sans found Frisk’s hand and clasped it in his bony appendages firmly, and Frisk felt his spare hand trace through their hair again.

“Not going to leave you, buddy, I promise.”

Frisk’s tension eased with one slow, deep, shaking breath.

It’s okay. Everything’s okay…

And then the doctor was performing his check over, moving carefully around Sans’ hands to make sure he and the skeleton had zero contact, and as he started, asked, “Alright, Frisk, it would be very helpful to your progress and health, If you could tell me your last name. I really need to find your medical files.”

Completely contrasting Asgore and everyone’s decision not to ask, which had them all staring like the older human was a complete _idiot._

Frisk’s hand, one in Sans’ hold and the other on the cloth of Toriel’s robe, tightened. There was another flash of blue as Frisk buried their face downward, a sure threat from Sans to the doctor and a very dangerous one at that.

“… paper.”

Eyes turned from a threatening Sans and idiot doctor, to Frisk.

“paper… pen…”

The doctor grabbed his clip board and pen, flipping some papers. He set it beside Frisk and quickly backed up again, clearly liking distance between him and Sans now.

Toriel’s neat penmanship filled over the paper, but there were a lot of blanks. Frisk wasn’t one for talking, definitely not one for talking about themselves, and a lot of things were never said; either because frisk didn’t want to talk about them, or because they’d just never come up.

Frisk struggled a bit into a sitting position, noting everyone’s concern, which increased when Frisk first winced in pain, and then more when a tremor ran down their body to their shaking hands.

Frisk squeezed Sans hand back once, and reluctantly let it go. He didn’t seem all that happy about it either, leaning on the bed. He was just tired enough though to just set his head down in the side of the bed and wait, arms cushioning the side of his face as he did.

Frisk quietly grabbed the pen, and with still shaking hands, began filling in information. Age… birthday… so on, stalling around filling in the final line. Finally, with nothing else to fill in, Frisk’s pen tip rested above the blank line.

Another violent, much stronger shake passed through Frisk’s body and the room’s tension strengthened, eyes trained hard on Frisk. Papyrus stood up from his seat on the floor looking guilty, and Asgore stepped forward toward the bed, tempted to just take the clipboard away while everyone but Frisk’s sleeping mother tensed up, even the doctor showing enhanced concern.

Frisk exhaled deeply, and pushed away the shakes with a firm determination as their face settled into their firm expressionless mask.

_Knopka-sbrosa._

Frisk thought it was foreign, the first part of the name from their mother and the second half from their father, they also remembered minutely. Frisk’s parents never did get married, at least, not while Frisk had been with them.

As soon as it was written, Frisk quickly put it down beside Sans, almost like it hurt them to keep holding it.

Sans picked it up slow, like he wasn’t keen on touching it either, looking it over once shortly to make sure all the new editions were legible, and with a new vehement death glare, glowing blue eye and all, he leaned off the cushion and walked around Frisk’s bed, handing the official papers in the most threatening movement he could to the doctor.

The man was so terrified, he was gone almost as fast as Sans could pull off.

In fact, he did vanish as fast as Sans could.

Sans glowing eye faded and Asgore and Papyrus both scowled at him. Undyne clapped him on the back with a nod of approval- almost knocking the suddenly once more exhausted skeleton off his feet- while Alphys stuttered and asked where Sans had just sent him.

“5 mile walk back to the hospital. Otherwise, I don’t care.” Sans muttered absently, returning to his chair at the side of Frisk’s bed. “Lay back down, kiddo. It’s been a bad day. Get some rest and heal.”

Frisk obeyed, curling up into their mother’s side, and while Sans careful stroke of their hair and grip on their hand returned, Frisk managed to find some semblance sleep, comforted with the knowledge sans would probably sooner kill the doctor than leave, and thus, Frisk didn’t feel so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one ends... moderately happier then the last few?
> 
> And Frisk's doctor reappeared into existence 5 miles south, stranded in a Compost Pile at the City Zoo. He returned to the hospital hours later and was put on probation for skipping work, and no one believed his story about magical teleportation. Undyne would later hear the nurses gossiping and laughing about it, and proudly give another slap to Sans. He would fall over with a grunt and everyone laughs.


	7. The Full Story is Finally Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, It all comes out into the open air.
> 
> And at this rate, Frisk is going to need new stitches.

Two weeks in the hospital.

Those two weeks were relatively the same.

Toriel stayed almost every night in the room, granting Frisk their request that Toriel sleep in their hospital bed. Toriel stayed the entire first week, but she ran a whole school, one of the only ones for monsters, and with Frisk’s assurance and with promises that Frisk wouldn’t be left alone even a single minute, Toriel returned to the school; for no more than 5 hours a day, if that.

Toriel would have stayed if Frisked asked, but as much as Frisk wanted to, Toriel’s school was very important, and it was two young to survive a full two weeks without its founder, principal and main teacher. Toriel had better things to do with her time, for the sake of the monsters. Frisk had messed up; Frisk shouldn’t be rewarded with their mother’s attention for messing up; Frisk shouldn’t bother their mother so much when she was so busy.

Even still, while Toriel took 5 hours every day to go and work and teach, she still focused all the other hours on Frisk.

Toriel whispered quiet promises that everything was going to be okay. Soft, tender words that Frisk clung to, that no one was going to leave them. No one was going to abandon them. No one would let Frisk be alone, never again.

Toriel had heard most of Frisk’s unconscious ramblings and whines. She abated all of them, contradicting everything from being alone to assumptions that various people would abandon them, every night before Frisk went to sleep or right before Toriel left for the school in the mornings.

The only ones to have heard more of those comatose paranoias than Toriel- although apparently _everyone_ had heard most of them- were the skeleton brothers, whom had been first to arrive at the hospital the scene of Frisk in a comma, suffering surgical complications and crying and mumbling in their lost sleep.

Apparently Frisk had freaked Papyrus out so bad that he had tried to wake them up by shaking their shoulders, and had almost been insighted by hospital security. Sans had picked a fight with the doctoral staff for putting Frisk into a coma over what they were told was a simple procedure. The two of the brothers eventually chilled themselves, since Toriel showed up shortly after, and both knew that the way they were acting would only scare Toriel. So they had sat quietly while Toriel talked to the doctors and listened to Frisk’s unconscious cries, whimpers and garbled words. They had heard just about everything that crossed Frisk’s mind while out of it.

Sans made truth of his promise ever since listening to those fears. He didn’t leave the room once. Sans was such a chill guy at all his jobs that people liked him, and after the news of Frisk had spread (near globally, considering Frisk’s political ambassador status), Sans’ various bosses showed up to the hospital room throughout the first week, pitying the skeleton sitting exhausted at Frisk’s side and assure him days off until Frisk was better. Sans called to his professor at the community college and took a month off from the classes. He didn’t sleep and he stayed at the side of Frisks bed, tired and staring at the ceiling and looking horrible.

If Sans looked bad right now, Papyrus was taking it worse. While Sans clearly was looking torn up- often crossed between a look of knowing sadness from Frisk’s anxious sleep mumbles and secrets, or suddenly suppressing an unholy fury that made his eye flicker blue for a while- everything was really getting at Papyrus in ways that made everyone worry.

He seemed, well, not _good_ , for a while at first. While Sans’ puns had significantly dropped, Papyrus had made a full effort to try and keep up humor to lighten everyone whom was present’s mood. He was clearly reaching exhaustion fast as he tried to keep awake to re-tuck Frisk in almost by the hour, fetching Frisk’s meals from the cafeteria (ranting a lot, much to Frisk’s grin, about the cafeteria’s lack of spaghetti but even that had stopped after a while), and keeping the room spotless and clean. He practically hunted down a doctor every time Frisk winced in pain to increase the painkillers and all but refused to let the one doctor any closer to Frisk the first few times after the name incident; that was probably the first time anyone had heard Papyrus attempt a real threat, even if the iteration fell flat.

Through it all, he maintained the energy and optimism of The Great Papyrus, having mostly one-sided conversations with a selectively mute Frisk during the day about helping them get strong again through practice after being bedridden so long, and about all the things they would do to make up for the time stuck in recovery and watching bad Metaton shows at night until they fell asleep.

Papyrus maintained it, but only for the first week.

It was really, really eating at him, Frisk picked up at the second week’s start. And this is why Frisk never gave Papyrus talks on the heavier stuff, like Frisk did with Sans (‘talks’ used loosely, as even Frisk and Sans didn’t talk much about these things, and more so just offered each other unspoken support). Papyrus could handle things and put a bright sunny filter on it, but after a while, when Papyrus starts to think about it, it spirals.

Papyrus’ mood visibly darkened under the weight of Frisk’s stress, their mumbled sleep fears of him not talking to them anymore, their personal shame about having needed him, about Frisk’s feeling of abandonment when Papyrus couldn’t go with them and hadn’t gotten to the hospital to be there for them, and about the secrets in general. With every day of the second week Papyrus got more tired and generally sank further and further into uncertainty and his own thoughts. Which took its toll on Sans, whom already had his hands full trying to figure out how to do something for Frisk, without his brother’s struggle added.

Undyne and Alphys stayed around all day every day. The hospital had started putting their foot down on the number of people in the hospital (it looked like half the monster population had camped out outside the hospital) which included making orders that only so many could come and see Frisk at a time; the crowd of monsters that was Frisk’s family made it hard for the nurses to work around Frisk. So from nearly dawn to dusk Alphys and Undyne came to keep Frisk company, while Asgore and Toriel were gone.

Undyne, having a sort of sixth sense about Papyrus’ mood dropping after working and training him for so long, picked up her intensity to make the room lively. She even suplexed a doctor, and as much as Frisk really shouldn’t have, they had found it ridiculously funny. Undyne also brought tea almost every day, golden flower tea for Frisk. It was healthy and considerably thoughtful. She also brought Papyrus spaghetti for lunch, which always cheered him up for a while, enough that he would return to ranting about the cafeteria’s lack of it and share it with Frisk, claiming it was full of healing nutrients, and Frisk would smile along and share their tea with him.

Meanwhile Alphys brought her laptop and spent the early mornings, when Frisk was awake but Undyne (decisively not a morning person) fell asleep in the chairs and no one else was active, Watching Anime with Frisk or playing animated games and RPGs. For a Shojo-Romance-Anime-Lover, Alphys was really into the human world’s video game series of Zelda and Assassins Creed. Alphys had been rather embarrassed to admit it, but Frisk and Alphys had a lot of fun playing them together before anyone else woke up (except Sans, who… really, didn’t sleep at all, and just sat quietly watching them play their games or watching the animes with them, only commenting with a bad pun or two).

Asgore fought and fought to get as much time with Frisk as possible. But despite his best efforts, Frisk’s hospitalization and the spreading of rumors that a human had been the one to hurt them was causing a steady uproar that was taking more and more of Asgore’s kingly diplomacy to trump and keep piece. The Monster Capitol at Mt Ebott, creatively named Ebott Mountain, was a highly populated city and there had been a riot in the middle of the second week, a demand for information and an update on the ambassador, which had Asgore gone for a couple days entirely. Asgore was clearly distressed at his inability to be with his abandoned-feeling child’s side, to the point that gentle ‘fluffybuns’ was starting show signs of anger toward the distractions. Undyne always managed to know when Asgore was going to be there, though, and brought extra tea that Frisk and Asgore shared, greatly settling Asgore’s nerves. Even Toriel looked at him sympathetically about the struggles he was having and how hard he was fighting to see Frisk.

Frisk just… felt bad about the whole thing.

Asgore was dealing with so much trouble—which was bound to get worse considering what Frisk knew about law, and about the fact that beating another kid’s face in was probably not a let-off-with-a-warning kind of a crime.

Undyne and Alphys were missing their work and taking so much time out of their day to come and keep the place light, and they always looked so concerned about Frisk that the worry had to be thick in their heads.

Sans and Papyrus, god. They looked like _they’d_ need hospital beds. Frisk was fairly certain that Sans actually couldn’t stand up at this point, he looked so spent; and Papyrus was falling in line with Sans’ progress.

And it had only been two weeks.

Considering the norm of this surgery might leave Frisk stuck in the hospital for 4, 5, maybe 6 weeks, it could be 7 or 8 considering the complication Frisk’d had, and the doctor (the one no one liked) said Frisk’s tension and how much they kept moving around was probably going to keep them their longer still.

Everything had gone wrong, and with every day, it looked worse for everyone.

On the bright side, marking day 16 in the early days of the second week, Sans was _finally_ asleep. This was the first time since Frisk had gotten in the hospital he’d slept, and considering Sans had nightmares like Frisk’s, sometimes worse, Frisk wasn’t sure how much he’d been sleeping before the hospital, either.

But Frisk was happy he was finally asleep. He really, really needed it.

So, with Sans finally out, the only one awake besides Frisk was Alphys, whom was pulling up the next episode of Ouran High school Host Club.

Toriel had only just left to go to the school, and the room was mostly quiet, save the distant sounds of the rest of the Hospital, the low snores of Undyne and Papyrus, and the mechanical sounds of the laptop processing the video that was being pulled up.

It was so calm and quiet. Something about Frisk’s primary observer finally being asleep was doing something to Frisk’s head. The calming effect Sans’ watchful presence had was waning, and with it, so did a sort of barrier Frisk had unknowingly built. Like they had been keeping something quiet specifically because Sans was keeping such a close eye.

Maybe it was how much respect Frisk had for Sans, because Frisk knew once this barrier broke, they would descend. The barrier held back so much and Frisk, on some level, didn’t want Sans to see it. Sans had some sort of understanding that Frisk was strong, and Frisk didn’t want it to be thought otherwise, not by Sans. ‘Strong independent frisk’ he had called it, before the ambulance.

Perhaps ‘strong independent frisk’ was going to take a well needed nap, like sans. Perhaps it was time ‘frisk who knows they’re in over their head’ came out.

Whether it was time or not, in frisk’s opinion, didn’t matter. Because it was building up, with or without frisk’s consent. Questions, emotions, fears, confusion, all swelling beneath the surface like a looming threat.

“…Alphys…”

The yellow scaled monster looked up curiously, a little surprised, at Frisk’s whispered call. Frisk was trying, in a last ditch attempt, to distract themselves from the looming wave in their mind applying pressure to the barrier, and motioned Alphyious to look over at the sleeping skeleton. She followed Frisk’s gaze to a sleeping Sans, and relief painted over Alphys’ expression. Frisk had to agree. Sans needed some sleep.

For a minute, they both just watched in the quiet piece as Sans lay still with his eyes closed, and after a long quiet, Alphys was again surprised that Frisk spoke, considering these morning routines had them both speaking very little.

But frisk couldn’t hold it all in. not all of it. Maybe, maybe, if Frisk let out just a little bit, just, just asked some of these boiling questions… maybe the water would stop rising.

“What- what does it feel like knowing Undyne loves you?”

And such a… bizarre question, at that.

Predictably, Alphys’ facial scales turned over many dark shades. “I-I- u-uhm- I- F-frisk? W-wh-why do you-?”

“Is it supposed to be so scary?” Frisked as quietly.

Alphys was floored in confusion.

“Scary?”

“Knowing- Having… Having people love you. Is it supposed feel… _scary_? _hard_?”

Frisk looked from Sans to Papyrus, asleep in the chair beside Undyne, whom had come in tiredly with Alphys just a bit ago and sat down to lean against the skeleton, and passed out to join him in snores.

“Does knowing Undyne loves you… make you as terrified as the thought of losing that love?”

“Are- Are you scared, Frisk?” Alphys asked.

Frisk looked down at their hands, nodding shakily.

“What are you scared of?” Alphys prodded gently.

Frisk’s face patterned with uncertainty, fear, confusion and worry, all stitched together with pain.

What did Frisk fear?

They feared… that the monsters, this family, wouldn’t want to be with them anymore. They were afraid that they’d all leave.

They were afraid of everything that was happening right now. That them loving Frisk was ruining everything they’d worked for, putting the monsters out of control, ruining everyone’s happiness, putting them through so much pain that even Papyrus, happy cheerful Papyrus, was looking as tired and unhappy as Sans.

They feared… they feared the thought of having a family. Family… family hurt. Having a family meant having people that you could lose. It meant having people you loves and that loved you that could disappear, and leave you. That could hurt you, so, so easily.

They feared all that they’d done. Done to this family. All the trouble they’d caused. All the pain. All the hard times they were causing now, and all the ones in previous timelines.

They feared their family.

They feared losing their family.

They feared both losing them, hurting them… and the family itself.

Alphys listened quietly as Frisk said this on trembling breaths (excluding the alternate timelines, thought they had such an urge to just let that secret out). Listened in silence, and held Frisk’s hand when the shaky words translated into shaking hands, and just listened as Frisk explained.

Alphys didn’t point out that the two sets of snores had slowed and stopped half way through the sounds of Frisk’s tumbling words. Didn’t point out that Sans’ hand had tightened over the blankets early on in the conversation, eyes cracked just the smallest bit to stare down at the blankets of the bed his head rested on. Frisk probably had already noticed.

Frisk had.

But Frisk couldn’t stop.

They just kept going, holding Alphys’ hand in the room lit with wispy white morning light, taking deep breaths between shaking sentences to keep from crying, pouring out their soul.

Apologies. Apologies spilled out over and over; sorry for fighting, sorry for not talking about everything with Papyrus, sorry for making Sans mad, sorry for making them worry, sorry for freaking out so much lately, sorry for lying, sorry for things that Frisk had to forcefully muffle under their hand from other timelines that no one but Sans would understand, sorry for being a burden and sorry for things that didn’t even pertain to them at all, sorry to a previous family, sorry for being such a responsibility, sorry for being such a bad child, sorry for even existing, sorry for apologizing even when Sans had said not to, sorry for everything.

Stuttering cries about the past month followed out. Half baked thoughts about what they should have done, in regards to should they contact their old mother and father. Mumbled tales of isolation from other humans and their classroom peers for having a monster family and for being some big political official. Reciting of the horrible names, every single last one of them, from the slurs about Alphys and Undyne, to the crude insults of Papyrus and Asgore, the fear inspired lies and harsh things that spread about Sans and the heart breaking things they called Toriel. Even the things they called and mocked Frisk themselves for, from harassment over their neutral gender, to their non-vocal behavior.

Every last name and every last thing that had been said about them all, by not just children, but by full grown _adults_. Teachers talking to one another about if it was even legal that Frisk lived with Toriel and considering contacting social services. Adults and anonymous people who managed Frisk’s phone number, email or social media and sent dark and hurtful thing and threats that went as far as death for bring the monsters above ground and threats to hurt Frisk’s family and friends; including a gruesome one that’s darkness had reminded Frisk of Flowey in how they said if they could they’d murder Papyrus and Sans in front of them over and over. It had Frisk breaking into hysterics then and there, when they’d first read it and as they tried to recount the monstrous details. Frisk said how much they’d wanted to tell Sans and Papyrus, or someone, about those threats, about that one particular threat, but just- _couldn’t_.

From there came more abstract fears and worries that had been a torment. Things that had been touched on in supposed sleep talking. Unfounded fear that if Frisk made even one wrong move that they’d all give up on Frisk and hate them. Hate them, abandon them, ignore them, get rid of them, hell, even ‘ _dispose_ ’ of them like had nearly happened in one particularly chilling attempt from Frisk’s childhood with their previous family.

The very memory as Frisk brought it up was the final blow, and Frisk’s waterfall of paranoia, memories and experiences cut off into hysterical crying, coughing and blubbering.

By which point no one was bothering to look like they were asleep. Sans had gotten up from resting his head on his arms on the bed; instead leaned all the way back in the chair, in his small position when Frisk had first woken to see him in, head back to stare at the ceiling as his expression was, for the second time in a single timeline- let alone a matter of only a _month_ \- grin-less and freely moving around between anger, distress and upset with no sign of his smile returning. Undyne had stopped leaning on Papyrus and pulled into a permanent cringe, fists squeezing and unsqueezing over and over again, cross between fury and shock. Papyrus had leaned forward with his elbows to his knee caps, one arm hanging limp and the other supporting his slouch with the palm to his forehead, lost somewhere in the same shock and a fresh horror.

Alphys was trying to keep calm beside Frisk, but the tightness of how they held Frisk’s hand betrayed their anxiety, and fear while the glaze in her eyes behind the glasses showed how close she was to crying.

Despite Alphys, the first to crumble was Undyne. The woman, looking as angry as a Sans who wanted to give someone a bad time, stood up. The fish monster made their way toward Frisk’s bed, climbed until she was behind Alphys and Frisk, and with a possibly bone crushing hug pulled the both of them in tight before cracking anger into a few soundless sobs. Alphys followed suit, hugging Undyne back and letting go of Frisk’s hand to pull them into the hug, too, sobbing her heart out and cradling Frisk in between them as the child wailed and cried.

In the moment of it all, Papyrus got back into his own groove and practically jumped on the bed, engulfing the group in a bony, but sure as _all hell_ not unwanted hug so big and so tight that it felt safe. One of his long arms reached out and Sans grabbed it firmly, and was all but picked up and dragged into the bed and placed into the hug, as well.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL NOT FAIL TO PROTECT HIS FRIENDS. THE GREAT- THE GREAT PAPYRUS- I LOVE YOU ALL.”

They all entirely ignored the nurse whom came in to shush them for being so loud so early, and with a little blue magic Sans pushed the nurse out and locked the door when the man tried to tell them all to get off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk babe is finally open, yay. maybe now's the chance to heal. for both the emotional aspect, and for that wound that keeps getting jostled like all hell.


	8. Some day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an end, but its only a prologue.
> 
> There will be the day, one day, some day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT, November 19th, final chapter posted on my birthday. radical.

The next few weeks were hard.

Of course, Toriel had to be told.

Sans left the room for the first, and only time, stepping out into the hall when Toriel came back that afternoon. He closed the door before she could even come in, and- well, from there, all Frisk knew was that Sans explained everything. They were gone a couple of hours.

Papyrus took Sans’ seat while he was gone, and the two of them… talked. Frisk had talked to Papyrus about everything that had been happening. About the fights, the discrimination, the other kids, the threats, the messages; all of it.

Papyrus listened, like a friend of The Great Papyrus’ caliber would. He didn’t ask many questions, and Papyrus was more serious then Frisk would probably ever see him again. Aside from serious, he was also, toward the end, mad.

He was mad Frisk hadn’t told him about the threats, especially considering they hadn’t told _anyone_ , at all. He listened when Frisk shrugged and quietly explained that most of them were benign, just hate mail from people hiding across the internet.

Papyrus wasn’t any less mad to hear them say so. Frisk had to admit, too: Papyrus’s argument was quite sound.

“WHAT IF THEY WERENT? WHO WOULD HELP YOU IF NO ONE KNEW, AND SOME EVIL HATE-MAIL HUMAN HURT YOU?” his own argument sparked him to also question why Frisk didn’t say anything about _anything_ that had happened.

Neither Alphys nor Undyne, sitting in the chairs across the room from the bed, interjected with Papyrus’ questions this time. In fact, they agreed with him, and demanded to know the answer as well.

Frisk tried to explain what they could, as best as they could formulate. Quiet, incomplete answers that alluded to be skittered around those notions of ‘ _good child_ ’ ‘ _bad child_ ’ that frisk had muttered about in their sleep and during their breakdown.

“Good children don’t bother their family. Good children aren’t dependent and needy. Good children handle their problems on their own.” Were Frisk’s precise, low spoken words toward the end, when explanations failed to form.

Papyrus stood up pointedly and crossed his arms. “THAT IS RIDICULOUS! FAMILY IS SUPPOSED TO LEAN ON EACH OTHER, EVEN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, LEAN ON SANS, AND ALL THE UNDERGROUND KNOWS HOW MUCH SANS NEEDS THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” more carefully worded, he added, “AND… ID RATHER YOU DID LEAN ON ME…” he coughed once, doing that strange thing where a skeleton blushes, and he looked off to the side. “THE GREAT PAPYRUS FEELS EXTRA GREAT WHEN YOU DO… IT MAKES HIM FEEL IMPORTANT.”

Then with all the spunk of Papyrus, he had continued, “OF COURSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALREADY VERY IMPORTANT! BUT SO ARE YOU, THE GREAT FRISK, AND WE ARE ON THE SAME TEAM, SO IT IS ALSO IMPORTANT THAT MY FAVORITE HUMAN WILL LET THE GREAT PAPYRUS HELP!”

Frisk nodded, smiling just a bit. “M’sorry, pap.”

“I BELIEVE YOU HAVE APPOLOGIZED MORE TODAY THAN I HAVE MY ENTIRE LIFE, SMALL HUMAN.”

Frisk nodded. He was probably right.

“You know, you can talk to me, too, brat!” Undyne puffed up, crossing her arms. “You know what I say we do, Alphy? You track down those threats with your nerd powers, and ill beat’em till they’re in Frisk’s place! That aught ‘ta teach’em.

Frisk paled, shaking their head and raising their hands in a placating motion.

Alphys laughed nervously, “I-I don’t- I’m not so sure about- _that_ … But…” She glanced to Frisk. “How- how about I make you- a new phone. It-it’ll have a new number, so none of the threat’sll have it, a-and- uhm, we’ll only use it between- between us and your good friends, so, so it’ll stay safe.”

Frisk nodded, color returning to their paled face. That- that would be- great!

“AND CALL THE ROYAL GU- AH- THE COPS!” Papyrus had added, pointing dramatically upward. “I SAW THIS ON TV! COP’SLL TRACK THE OFFENDERS WHO THREATENED FRISK AND THEY WILL BE PUNISH TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE HUMAN LAW!”

“Aw. Why can’t _we_ do the punishing?” Undyne was not pleased.

“HUMANS WILL NOT SURVIVE AGAINST YOU, UNDYNE!”

“That’s the point!”

Even though the banter thereafter had been amusing, Sans eventually came back later, with Toriel.

Frisk’s mother was heartbroken, and the first thing she did, was sit on Frisk’s bed and give them a hug. A warm, safe, comfortable, soft hug. Toriel was speechless. She didn’t ask any questions or try to talk about anything, just held Frisk close, almost afraid to let go of her child. They talked later in Frisk’s hospital stay the next day, when Asgore came back.

It was a talk even longer than with Papyrus, and much less funny. It was full of parental concern and a lot of ‘whys’ that were even harder to answer then they had been with Papyrus. They discussed everything. Both Asgore and Toriel seemed well aware Frisk was dancing around something from a history much further back; Frisk knew they’d caught it in how their questions initially were trying to figure it out, but then started to avoid whatever the mystery topic was. Frisk was quietly thankful they didn’t push on it. It was hard just talking about the fights, let alone… _that_.

The only other person in the room during this ‘talk’ was Sans; Asgore didn’t have it in him to even consider asking Sans, looking half dead, to get up or leave the kid he was ‘guarding’; Toriel sat a chair beside his on the opposite side of the bed from Asgore and seemed to draw her own calm and comfort from Sans presence, anyway, so considering talking without Sans was a fleeting- if it ever even came to mind- thought.

Stay respectfully out of the conversation no less, Sans didn’t say anything to contribute to the ‘talk’ until the end.

He recommended Frisk get a body guard.

All three looked surprised, but Sans continued. He’d asked Frisk earlier that morning for the email account with the worst and many of the other threats and had read through them, he explained; Frisk had kept them all for a strange reason that had disturbed Sans. He pointedly informed Frisk he had deleted them all when he gave them back their phone, giving them a serious look. He had sent them to his own Email, to be used as future evidence if needed, but no less gave Frisk that serious look, even if he didn’t ask why they had kept those dark emails.

Sans continued to explain his idea with good points; Frisk’s school, town, and home were public knowledge, as were the meetings Frisk went to as an ambassador, and those threats were- like Frisk had said- mostly benign trash and hate mail; but some of them, like the big one or some other violent ones, seemed to stick out in an uncomfortable way. If any of these threateners decided to act, _anyone_ could find Frisk with relative ease.

He pointed this out with another serious look at Frisk who ducked their head at the reminder of how dangerous and, yeah, pretty stupid it was to have kept this a secret so long.

Sans continued, and explained that hiring a body guard isn’t what he really meant; after all, there were very few humans that could stand against most monsters, but even fewer humans that could stand against _Frisk_. The kid was quite strong, and they all knew it from Frisk’s practice spars and exercise days with Undyne and Papyrus (Sans also had personal knowledge that the kid was probably stronger than any monster; after all, the kid had beaten him in countless full-out fights many times before).

Even still, although Frisk definitely wouldn’t need hired help in a real fight, Frisk was a pacifist and wouldn’t fight unless it was a matter of life and death (unless, apparently, it was in the name of Toriel and their family). So in the event Frisk was attacked to be captured, Frisk wasn’t going to put up as big a fight as they probably could. Frisk quietly agreed with a nod, proving him right; especially after this last fight, Frisk didn’t think they’d ever use their strength so fully against another human ever again.

So, Sans said, Frisk would need someone around who _would_. Back tracking, Sans reminded them again, that there were few humans that could stand against monsters. And Frisk was often surrounded by monsters. Sans explained that he thought Frisk should just have someone who could help them out should something ever happen. Just someone near by Frisk was comfortable and safe with, and was strong enough to hold their own and fight in the even the threats turned viable. Just someone there to defend Frisk.

Sans exampled with how he had walked Frisk to and from school.

Frisk had looked at him with wide eyes. They’d never expected that Sans’ motive behind it was playing _body guard_ ; they figured he just liked company to tell jokes to on his way to work and coming home with Frisk after work to chat with Toriel in the afternoon.

He shrugged at Frisk’s look. “I don’t trust humans; I don’t like you walking alone in a human town, kid, so I walk with you. So far, I’ve been proven right, Humans shouldn’t be trusted.” Was what he said.

Which made sense. Sans had the most reason out of probably any monster alive to not trust humans, having had to sit through many lifetimes worth of timelines where a human murdered all his friends and himself. Plus, a lot of humans above ground had further proved him right; between 12 year olds who spouted cruel words and drove a pacifist to fight like a berserk animal, to adults who sent a child hate mail as gory as he’d read in the kid’s emails. Of course he wouldn’t trust them. His answer was logical.

Toriel and Asgore shared a look. They agreed with Sans. Frisk, although very hesitant to agree to something like needing help 24-7, nodded agreement when their parents had looked to them. It was honestly… probably a good idea. If not for them to be there to talk Frisk out of fighting in the future if people mocked their family, they would at least help Frisk to stop having to look over their shoulder all the time. The threats had had Frisk Paranoid for a long time now.

And so, Asgore and Toriel decided they’d think about this option for the future.

Other things were also discussed after Sans’ suggestion, to help Frisk’s situation.

In particular, it was decided that Frisk would start going to Toriel’s School for Monsters, and do some home schooling; not only because the Human school was proving too hostile, but also because the Doctors were expressing concern over Frisk’s level of tension and anxiety; a hospital Psychologist even recommended that Frisk should do the homeschooling as opposed to public school; seeing as Frisk had crowd anxiety to begin with, public school probably wasn’t their best fit. No less, neither Toriel or Asgore thought it was a good idea to remove Frisk entirely from their own age group; and, following through with both Sans’ ‘body Guard’ suggestion as well as to be a comforting force amongst the crowds of the school and to keep an eye out for (unlikely considering how kind monsters were, and considering Frisk was a monster idol) bullies.

Arrangements were then made for Frisk to attend School at Toriel’s School for Monsters for the first half of a week; meanwhile Thursday and Friday, Frisk would be taught by the family at home or their houses or even out, where ever it be. Thinking about it, there was a lot Frisk could learn from their monster family. Both Sans and Alphys were scientists of high degrees, Asgore and Toriel could teach lots- especially in regards to politics seeing as Frisk was an ambassador and their two parents were once royalty, Undyne and Papyrus made great PE coaches and… cooking teachers…uh, debatable. Undyne had already excitedly decided to teach Frisk piano.

Frisk found themselves liking the idea; both going to Toriel’s school and making friends with monsters their own age, and spending time and getting lessons from their friends.

Other things reared their heads through the next few weeks.

Mettaton popped his head in, and didn’t run out so fast this time; instead he came in quietly shortly after Asgore had left post-‘talk’. He came and shot a surprisingly nervous looking glance toward Alphys, who gave him an encouraging smile. Stepping towards Frisk’s sick bed, he bowed in his dramatic flair and offered a long-winded apology.

Frisk didn’t know what for, and further embarrassed, the automaton went on to explain that in an effort to try and help with the situation with the information-craving riots, he’d announced his ‘report’ on Frisk’s banged up condition to the monsters as well as what information he’d dug up about a couple human kids being the ‘perpetrators of evil’. He apologized for causing the stir which had been keeping Asgore away even more, and for causing all the trouble in the public, and for his ‘insensitivity’ about Frisk’s recent issues with Toriel and practically broadcasting them with his TV show and news stories.

He clearly felt quite bad now that he’d heard the actual story behind it. Frisk took his apologies in stride and he was grateful- and quick to ask about that opening for his TV series’ finale, much to Alphys’ dismay and an excited near-squeal from Papyrus at the thought of Frisk starring in a Metaton TV show. Frisk explained that they’d think about it, and Mettaton beamed, before Asgore showed back up and called for Mettaton again. The robot left in an embarrassed flurry; apparently he and Asgore still had work to do to fix the mess of monsters beyond Frisk’s hospital room.

Beyond Mettaton’s uproar with the Monsters, there had been other visitors, most of them humans which Frisk recognized.

one group had included news anchors that Frisk saw when checking the weather on TV (Frisk, actually, preferred Mettaton’s news channel then to the other Human stations, but he didn’t have a reliable weather program yet. It’d only been 8 months above the surface, after all; Metaton worked fast, but even he couldn’t cover everything _that_ fast.). Toriel wouldn’t let that group past the door, and at some point the group of humans had gotten so rowdy and pushy trying to get in with a couple camera guys in tow that Sans had started to get up, showering them with a glare; Papyrus had returned just then having retrieved Frisk’s lunch from the cafeteria, and had saved the day with his bubble personality and had managed to steer them out with an uncanny finesse.

Frisk still wasn’t sure how Papyrus had managed to do that, though he came back looking significantly more tired, so it must have been pretty tough a task even though he made it seem easy.

The second group to show up, Frisk recognized from ambassadorial meetings. Toriel had been less than certain about letting them in, but caved when Frisk called to her; Frisk recognized them to be most of the officials they’d liked most. They had come bearing a lot of apologies and questions about Frisk’s health; a friend of Frisks and a Secretary of Education, a woman named Kazulu, was amongst them. She was extra apologetic and told Frisk how she was reviewing the case and the school; she was especially reviewing the teachers Toriel had supposedly reported (Frisk hadn’t known Toriel was going to _report_ the things they’d explained. It made sense, but Frisk felt a little guilty…).

Another of Frisk’s friends and Kazulu’s friend, Arrgo, Secretary of Human Services, came baring a script of everything that had been discussed in the meeting Frisk had missed while trapped in their hospital bed (reading the script revealed Asgore had attended the meeting as a temporary fill in as the monster ambassador). Arrgo was all smiles and concerned questions. His brother was Chief of Police in the city of Frisks (now ex) school, and Arrgo explained that there was indeed an investigation underway, just as Kazulu had said.

The next day, a couple of cops and an attorney showed up. They didn’t come in the room. Toriel and Asgore, both present at the time, stepped outside. Asgore didn’t come back, and Toriel reentered looking overwrought. She said something to Sans, who tensed as well, and later Frisk noticed him whisper something to Papyrus who’s entire mood plummeted in response. Papyrus has Undyne and Alphys come with him to get Frisk’s dinner and all three came back glum.

Frisk… decidedly didn’t ask. Frisk’d kept enough of their own secrets lately, they shouldn’t ask about another set of secrets, not now. Plus, there was probably a good reason Frisk wasn’t being told whatever it was.

Over the rest of Frisk’s stay in the hospital, Frisk had also started to get the feeling that Sans was being… extra watchful. He was certainly watchful before, but the feeling was growing excessively, day by day.

Frisk was watching him, too, though.

Despite the 10, 15 minute nap pre Frisk’s breakdown, Sans was getting more tired and showing more signs of distress. Frisk could see Papyrus watching him, too, and Toriel was keeping her eye on him, but no one else seemed all that aware of the skeletons worsening state. Maybe Frisk’s issues and the looming threats of the various things Frisk had exposed- from literal threats made directly to Frisk, to the uneasy contact with Frisk’s own past that they were glimpsing for the first time- had eclipsed over Sans’ exhaust. 

Which made Frisk worried on various levels, since they were looking right over Sans’ issues, and, were staring at them and their own. It felt both like Frisk was ‘ _stealing_ ’ Sans’ friends and attention, and also threatened Frisk’s secrets.

No less, the worst aspect of it all was just how bad Sans started to go. He still refused himself sleep- now even more so, having found himself nearing sleep at what was such a key moment. He wasn’t going to risk sleeping again.

At least, that’s what Frisk heard in Sans’ mutters to himself. So quiet they were under his breath, but Frisk heard him murmuring them at night while they feigned sleep, and Sans thought he was the only one up.

He frequently reminded himself of his promise to protect Frisk to Toriel. He frequently growls to himself at failing. He contemplates and muses quietly- so quiet frisk only catches a few words like their own name every now and again, and random words that didn’t make much sense.

Frisk didn’t know what he was saying most of the time, just knew he sounded angry and sad and exhausted and confused, and that he neither could nor wanted to let himself sleep.

Frisk was contemplating if drugging a skeleton could make them fall asleep when, one night in the 6th week, Toriel couldn’t get back to the hospital.

The snows had come in whilst Frisk had been in the hospital. Papyrus had taken delight and had tried to take Frisk out one morning- both Sans and Toriel had butted in and put a stop to that- and then tried to bring some snow in himself, but the doctors had stopped him that time. Whilst Toriel was at the school, with Papyrus volunteering to help bring back some of the mountain of paperwork Toriel was bringing to work from the hospital, the first big snowstorm of the season came in. The roads between Ebott Mountain and the city with the hospital (the same city with Frisk’s ex-school) were impassible.

Toriel had called and sounded near hysterical not having a way to get there. Frisk had sat up and started to get panicked at the thought of Toriel not coming, too, and Sans had been just about ready to do whatever he did with his shortcuts, but Toriel had shut him down on that offer, saying she was stuck in a very public bus depot and magically appearing skeletons were a _bad_ idea around so many humans.

And, it would mean leaving Frisk all alone.

The monsters were extra nervous about that- as much as it made Frisk feel bad to make them so worried about Frisk’s being afraid to be alone.

At that mention point from Toriel, Sans had shut down on trying to leave to go get her and Papyrus immediately. Which made Frisk feel even more guilt.

He promised Toriel not to leave frisk alone over the phone, and Toriel thanked him and swore she’d get there as soon as the busses could get going again.

In other words, Frisk had to go the night without Toriel. Alternatively: Frisk was alone for the night with Sans.

That watchful gleam he had was at its most intense, and Frisk didn’t attempt to, in return, hide their own watching of him; occupying themselves with concern over Sans’ lack of sleep and staring was mostly to distract themselves from Toriel not going to come back tonight.

Sans seemed to get gradually more suspicious as the sun- if it were out and not covered in clouds and snow storm- would have set, having spent the last hour under Frisk’s blatant staring.

At last, while Sans was sitting in his chair and stressing about how to go get Frisk food from the cafeteria if he wasn’t allowed to leave them alone whilst Frisk continued to watch him almost pointedly, Sans finally gave in. With a sharp, brief glare he turned to the kid on the bed, moodiness enhanced from lack of sleep, and demanded, “ _What_?”

Frisk flinched involuntarily and immediately regretted the involuntary action when Sans let out a thick, heavy sigh and dropped his forehead to rest on the bones that would be a palm.

“…you don’t sleep.” Frisk, finally, stuck forward.

Frisk fidgeted quietly with the hem of the hospital blanket, avoiding looking up when Sans looked back at them. They felt bad about pointing it out for some reason, and regretted voicing their concern. Who was Frisk to point out someone’s flaws, especially right now? After all, Frisk had made a ton of bad choices lately.

A _skele_ ton.

Sans would have found that funny.

Frisk regretted not saying it out loud.

Having not heard Frisk’s internal joke, the rather serious skeleton eyed them and slowly responded, “That’s not new news, bucko.” True. Sans never had been one to sleep a lot, not in a healthy way; he took naps everywhere, but he never slept good and well.

“At all.” Frisk continued their last assertion impulsively, stressing the point. As much as it weighed on Frisk to be pointing it out, they were getting increasingly concerned. Sans wasn’t even taking the little naps here and there that he seemed to substitute for his inability to get real sleep.

Sans sighed. “No big deal, kid. I’ve had worse nights.”

“…worried…” Frisk mumbled quietly, twisting their fingers together restlessly and finally glancing up to their friend.

“You, worried about me, while you’re sitting in the hospital bed?” Sans scoffed a short, almost dry laugh.

But despite his write off, Frisk nodded once firmly in agreement. Sans was quiet and looked up again, watching the ceiling. “I’m fine, kid. Just can’t find sleep. You know how that goes.”

Frisk nodded again. They both had a hard time sleeping; sometimes after nightmares, sometimes they couldn’t sleep entirely.

Tentatively, Frisk asked, “…had nightmares… lately?”

“of course.” It was short. Getting him to just talk about things was always like pulling teeth,

“… particular nightmares…” Frisk prompted again. “…nightmares since coming to the hospital.”

“Come on, kid.”

“New nightmares. Here. In the Hospital.”

Sans let out a long winded sigh, closing his eyes for only a moment.

Sans should probably have said no, to spare the kid from worrying, but the truth was… “…yeah. First couple of nights you were here in the coma. Ironically, while you were sleeping like the _dead_ , the walking _skeleton_ couldn’t sleep more than 15 minute intervals, maybe 4 times. Haven’t tried since, not really. S’not worth it.” His joke attempt fell flat, even to him, and he hadn’t even tried to make a joke out of s’not into snot. Those nightmares must be pretty bad.

What did he dream about?

Did Sans dream of the golden light of the royal halls?

Did he dream about dusts and contrasting red scarfs?

Did he dream of knives and sweaters and blank expressions?

Did he dream of this world reseting, waking up underground again?

Or were they different, new dreams?

Did he dream of Frisk in this timeline, beating up another child?

Did he dream about Frisk being corrupted in this timeline?

Did he dream of Frisk, _this_ Frisk and not a past Frisk, wearing a sweater caked with dust?

What had he dreamed about?

What robbed him so bad of sleep?

_What had dreamed about?_

They’d never talked about each other’s nightmares. When they met up in the night, they didn’t say anything. They’d just sit together quietly; either sit on Toriel’s front porch if Frisk came up in the middle of the night screaming and drew Sans’ attention; or if it was vice versa and Frisk heard Sans next door shouting himself awake or felt his magic flare, then they’d go to him and they’d sit quietly on that lumpy couch with coins from their old home and watch TV.

Sometimes they’d just seek each other out, minus the screams. Frisk would slip inside the skeleton brother’s house with their spare key and crawl up the stairs to Sans’ room. Frisk would feel guilty standing in his door way, like a bother, staring at his still form on the bed and then try to leave quietly without ‘waking’ him, but Sans always seemed to actually be awake anyway and would sit up, gesturing to them to come on over, or catch Frisk with magic and bring them over himself if they still tried to dart away, and Frisk would curl beside him gratefully and with a soft apology for bothering him.

Sometimes Sans came to Frisk; they’d spot him sitting on a rock in the forest beyond their bedroom window and slide it open, quietly slip out and sit next to him, watching the sky with him. Other times Frisk heard their door creek open at night and would feel a cold skeleton hand touch their face, just checking they were still there and it wasn’t the murderous not-Frisk of previous times, before letting out his shaking breath; Frisk would quietly sit up and hold Sans’ extended hand in the dark until he either vanished from existence back to who knows where, or would let Frisk pull him into the bed and they’d lay there in silence.

It used to scare Toriel when she woke up and Frisk wasn’t in their room in the morning, but Toriel had learned quickly that Sans and Frisk had the habit of abducting one another or showing up to stay the night in each other’s company. Toriel had been quite surprised the first time she’d found Sans sleeping in Frisk’s bed, the smaller human child clinging to him like a teddy bear, but had smiled and stole a few pictures for scrap booking purposes. Sans was always welcome in Toriel’s house and even if it was a shock to discover the first time, it was quite cute. Asgore, however, had almost had a heart attack the first time Frisk disappeared on one of his nights with them over.

But in all their night time accompaniments, they’d never sat down and talked about those nights or the nightmares. They both just knew from personal experience that they both had gone through the same bad times and silently knew what the other dreamed about. There wasn’t much need to talk about it. Talking would only make it hurt.

So Frisk asking Sans quietly, “What were the dreams about?” silently threw out their basic routine and kind of caught Sans off guard.

“The…?”

“…yeah. While I was ‘asleep’.”

Sans was quiet. Frisk felt a guilty wish to take the question back hanging over their head.

“You don’t really wanna know, kid.”

“…Did… did you…” Frisk found it hard to put to words.

Frisk was worried that sans being unable to sleep was their fault. Not just in general over previous runs and resets, but this time, specifically _Frisk_ had hurt other people. Frisk had put someone in the hospital. Frisk had done very, very bad.

As Papyrus would say, they’d done a violence.

This was supposed to be a time _without_ violence. Was Frisk fighting, hurting, hospitalizing others going to ruin that? That small amount of peace? Was it enough to remind Sans of other times when Frisk _would_ fight? To make him believe a peaceful timeline wasn’t possible? Was that realization what kept him up at night now?

Had Frisk ruined this?

“I… is it because I…” trembling hands and watery eyes and Frisk felt shame again. So much crying lately. Was ‘strong independent Frisk’ ever even real? Such a baby.

It wasn’t the same kind of violent shaking in their hands that Frisk had had before, during that last anxiety attack, but it was quickly building up to it, much to Sans’ dismay.

“Kid, come on, this isn’t anything new- stop tearing yourself up inside over it. Literally.” He set a bone-constructed hand over Frisk’s injured belly to prove his point, reminding the younger about the Doctors warning that the stress wasn’t good for the healing wound. It may have been a few weeks since the surgery, but Frisk’s operation had been full of complications and allergies and moving around despite the bed rest order and wound-jostling group hugs. Frisk really shouldn’t get worked up, not again, they really didn’t need any more stress on their injury.

After a second while Frisk struggled to bring their crying under control, Sans found he didn’t like the emotionless expression they were trying to use to mask it, either. Sighing, he caved. “You really need to know?”

With a deep breath, trying to still themselves, Frisk looked at Sans hopefully, but, full of dread. A strange combination.

Sans clearly had an understanding of what Frisk was expecting to hear about his dream, and if he hadn’t already guessed, the kid’s expression right now proved what they were guessing.

A few heartbeats of silence.

“Kid, you died in them.”

Short, bitter, and simple.

Frisk looked shocked. Sans resisted rolling his eyes. “Look, alright? I’m… I don’t… I have no fucking- shit, not fucking- freaking?- no _freaking_ clue how your head operates.” Sans’ failure to be charismatic was particularly full of stutters, and only made Frisk’s eyes widen further in astonishment. Stuttering Sans was… odd. “I don’t know what the hell- _heck_ goes on in there, and I don’t know crap about… about what you think about _me_ , or why you think I- I do anything that I do, or what you think _I_ think.”

Sans looked down from the ceiling, finally, and fixed a glowing white pair of eyes on them. “I don’t know what you think- think about us, think about me, think about _yourself_ , how you think in _general_. You flop around a lot. Happy, scared, nervous, calm, concerned, all sorts of shi- _stuff_. Stuff. But I know enough to know that you doubt something pretty big about not just _me_ , but about _everyone_. You doubt that we- well, not that we care, you know we care, I know you do- at least I fucking _hope_ you do, because we _do_. We do, Frisk, we care, we love you, we care. I don’t know what makes you doubt us. It could be a lot of things- and a lot of the things that come to my mind make me _fucking furious_.”

The flash of ice blue and the feel of magic shooting freely through him was too brief to even bring about the sparks of fear they normally had for Frisk as Sans kept talking, at such point he wasn’t trying to even correct his curses, and his stutter was mostly overridden. “I don’t know what happened to you- if anything happened to you at all, or if I’m just badly misreading signals or _who even knows_ \- but I know for whatever reason, you doubt us, a lot. You doubt me, a lot. There’s a doubt in your head and I don’t like it.”

“We’ve got bad history but all that aside, kid, kiddo, _frisk_ , you have to understand that I care about you. I’m not leaving you, I’m not abandoning you, and _yes_ , you dying is a _fucking nightmare._ One I don’t just ‘dislike’, kid. One I _dread, hate, fear_. I don’t want you dead and I don’t want you gone. I got an inkling to what you were thinking just now, but frankly, kid, I can’t even think about that shit.”

Sans leaned forward on the bed, his smile almost gone but not quite, and full of a confusing amount of emotion. It was ferocious, with a warmth that almost reminded Frisk of the warmth in Toriel’s hugs. “I don’t care about the fight, kid, I care about the fact you got hurt and you never told me- _anyone_ , you never told _anyone_ , you didn’t get _help_. Even if you doubt us, Frisk, you have to know we care about you. I don’t know what’s happened in your life before the hole and falling and showing up in the ruins, and I’m not asking you tell me, certainly not right now, but I’m asking you to understand that it’s a fucking nightmare, thinking about you having died because some snot kicked you to death or some bastard on the internet came through with one of those threats, or anything else. Kid, I don’t want you gone, we don’t want you gone, we want you _here_. It doesn’t matter if you fight because your still one of our own, you’re still our friend and you’re still in our family, all mistakes aside.”

He leaned back in his chair, with the dull sound of his spine landing against the chair’s plastic backrest. His head tilts back and he looks even more tired as the lights disappear from his sockets, and at a loss, he finishes low and slowly, “I can’t sleep because when I try I can’t get rid of this fucking nightmare that your still going to keep hiding the truth from us, that you doubt us, that you doubt we’ll stick by your side, that you doubt that we wouldn’t ditch you, that by some logic in your head that I can’t comprehend you’ll think your doubts mean you can’t come to me- to _all of us_ \- for help, and you’ll get yourself killed. Again. This is supposed to be our final run, kid, with no more resets; but I don’t want it if you’re going to throw it away getting yourself beaten to death.”

Long, long silence.

“I…” Sans looked down a small bit to see Frisk, whom watched their own hands in their lap. “Sans… I…”

From the looks of it, the kid was trying really hard to force something out, something hard, in response to Sans’ own confession. There had been lot of confessions lately. What a tough couple of weeks.

“Sans… I can’t… I- I want to…. I want to tell you.” Frisk’s smaller hands curled up, “I wanted to tell you… about… about the fights, before. I almost did, a couple times, about the threats…. But… I couldn’t… I… almost told you about what… what the one threat said… that one night… And now. Now, there’s still… still… But… I can’t… I can’t… there’s too much… I just… want to forget it. All of it.”

Sans felt the memory Frisk had referenced to. A few days before Frisk’s final fight at the school before hospitalization, Frisk had been going to tell Sans something. They’d shown up on his doorstep during that weekend and asked to talk to him in his room, so, it had to be very serious. But Frisk had glanced into the kitchen on their way to the stairs with sans, and the determined look in their eyes wavered when they glimpsed Papyrus going about his cooking experiments, and then Frisked looked at Sans.

He’d seen something twisted working behind the kid’s gaze as the gears turned in thought, replaying a memory- which he now knew, had to be the memory of reading that one particular threat- and the last bit of determination had left them. Frisk had shaken their head and stuttered out never minds and goodbyes and tried to run out of the house.

Sans didn’t let Frisk leave and had them calm down on the couch, Papyrus joining them after hearing the ruckus, but… at the time, Sans had chalked it up to something related to timelines. It wasn’t the only time Frisk had acted badly after watching Papyrus, memories of a different Frisk, a dirty brother killer, plaguing their head. Sans could now tell it was different, a different darkness, a more present fear, one alive in their own timeline.

The thought that there was still something else, though. Something Frisk wanted to forget, something still in the kids head, a different plague—and all the warning signs Sans could read from Frisk’s behavior and manors and actions and words. So many little puzzle pieces, and something Frisk still, still couldn’t say or explain…

The thought made Sans frown; no smiles, just a frown.

Frisks hands shook still, and increasingly so. Sans was starting to worry and trying to figure out what to do to make it stop, to get the kid to calm down before- before another one of those- the doctor had called the last two panic attacks- could start, when Frisk continued quietly. “I’ll- I’ll tell you… when… I can. I promise. And- and- and mom. Toriel- mom… ill tell her. You and mom. I’ll tell you, some day. One day, when… when I can.”

Hearing Frisk calling Toriel mom knocked a level of stress off Sans shoulders; not nearly enough of it, but a shockingly large portion. As did Frisk’s promise. Some day. One day. Both were vague terms. But they were promises. They were something. Sans squeezed his hands into fists. “I promise I’ll listen when you try and tell me. I promise, kid. I’ll help you. With whatever it is.” He hated promises. He really, really hated promises. But it was a promise to an old friend that had made him protect the kid this far. And he’d promise to that same old friend to stay at their side until Toriel would return. He’d make this one, now. To Frisk themselves, and to himself.

Frisk’s face grew a small, warm smile laden with surprise as they looked up to Sans at that. Frisk knew Sans hated promises. The smile got bigger, and both knew how much it meant to Frisk that he had promised them such a thing.

“Alright, kid.” Sans chuckled, pulling his smile on himself, nudging Frisk lightly. “Bad night, but you really need to go to sleep. You look exhausted.” Frisk gave him a pointed look. “Yeah, yeah, I know I do, too. But that’s me, and you’re you. Time for bed, bucko.” Sans got up with a wink and made for the light switch.

He glanced back just as he was about to turn it off, but already, Frisk’s expression had returned to something negative he didn’t fully understand how to read.

He turned off the light with an inaudible sigh, and started back to his chair. Before he could sit and slump back to wonder over just what was wrong now and wait out another night of no sleep, Frisk asked, “Sans?”

He detected an excessive amount of guilt and shame in that tone. It was a very familiar tone. It reminded him of the nights Frisk showed up to his house and thought he was asleep, though remarkably heavier.

He had a feeling what they were about to ask, finding himself a touch angry and upset that the kid would still feel shame about having to ask him. They still doubted. There was still that doubt that they would be allowed to ask something like this of him. he wished there wasn’t such a doubt, dearly he did. No less, he asked, “Yeah, kid?”

A really long pause, and the nervousness melded with the shame as they quietly asked, “will- will you… can I- can you- …will you lay up here with me? P-please?”

As expected. He shook his head in exasperation still, wondering if Frisk would ever stop sounding like that, and within a few heartbeats, he found himself laying in the kid’s hospital bed, Frisk curled into his side, nuzzled in close in the comfortable position they’d found many times before to avoid sharp edges, small fingers curled around a couple ribs.

“I love you too, sans.” Frisk mumbled, addressing him having said it before, steadily sinking further into both sleep and Sans.

Sans grinned tiredly and pulled the blanket up higher over the kid’s shoulders as he tucked his arm around them closer.

“’night, kid.”

One day. Some day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep your eyes peeled for the next installations of the series: "Monster Testing" and "Politics" ((I'm not quiet sure yet which I'm posting yet, but they happen about the same time in during the timeline, so either one may be posted next))

**Author's Note:**

> That's ch 1 there ya go


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